


Country Whatevers

by Skystreakerz



Category: CountryHumans, Statehumans
Genre: 1800s America (cowboy ye ye), Adoption, Adventure, Ameridad, Anorexia Nervosa, Anxiety, Betrayal, Canada is baby lol, Cheating, Cold War, Cold War consequences, Confessions, Cousins, Dancing, Drinking, Espionage, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Germany and Poland being cute, Haphephobia, I'm a cowboy baby, Iran-Contra, Ireland just chilling, M/M, Manipulation, Mind Games, Mother and Son, NATO summit, Nanjing Massacre, OOC stuff, Ocean, Pedophilia, Philippines distrusting America, Poly, Religion, Sadomasochism, Sailing, School, Shapeshifting, Siblings, States are pets, Texas is a good friend, Time Travel, Toxic Relationships, UK drag, World War II, descriptions, fire it up, headcanons, kind of continuation of British America?, magic genie America, minecraft girlfriend, monster states, motivation help, museum, nerdy New Zealand, poor North Vietnam, proposal, puppet governments, pure concentrated sweet fluff about two adorable dorks, roarin 20s, state animal companions, story ideas, totally not John Wick, what happened to Soviet?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-28
Updated: 2020-01-03
Packaged: 2020-02-09 07:01:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 21
Words: 154,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18633157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skystreakerz/pseuds/Skystreakerz
Summary: This is literally just me spitting out random stuff to do with countries and states. Maybe part twos and threes or something, I’m not exactly sure yet. Spontaneous updates, so really when I have motivation. I will update the rating and tags as needed. Have fun reading I guess.Also, for the CountryHumans, they’re more ‘human’ than ‘country’ so keep that in mind. It’s just things I thought might be cool as a concept and stuff.





	1. Rusame Because Everyone Loves Rusame

Russia laughed and shook his head. "You don't have an ounce of culture in you! You can't even speak a different language! How do you expect to convince people that you have culture if you can only speak  _one_  language?"

America sat up straighter, fixing his sunglasses and trying his best to keep his emotions in check. "You think I can only speak one language?" He shot back, his voice slow, even.

"Everyone knows you can only understand English. I mean, look at your people. They can only speak English." Russia grinned and poked his forehead. "How sad."

America counted to ten in his head to keep from snapping, his hands clasped together so he didn't lash out. "I can speak more than one language. And I  _do_  have culture. Many, in fact. Just like you do."

Russia scoffed and waved him off. "Please. Your culture is just burgers, cowboys, and Hollywood."

His hands tightened into one another, and this time, he struggled to get to ten. "I'm not a fat cowboy in the desert."

Russia smirked back at him, stabbing his fork into a piece of steak, then pointing it to America. "Prove it. Oh wait, you can't, because you don't even speak a second language."

America's nails bit into the backs of his hands by this point, and he could feel his eyes burning from behind his sunglasses as his rage continued to mount. "I can. Speak a second language."

"Then  _prove_  it." Russia leaned down to him from across the table. "Or are you lying to me? You can just admit you don't have any culture, and then we'll be done with it. No shame in admitting the truth."

A white-hot fury burned from the back of his throat and the center of his chest, his nails making indents in his skin and his eyes lit up from behind the dark black glass. "I  _can_  speak another language. And I  _do_  have culture. And I don't have to prove it to  _you_  to show that I do.  _You_ have no business speaking to  _me_ as though  _you're_ culturally superior."

"Ah ah! Hear that?" Russia cupped his hand behind his ear and leaned out to the side, looking off into that direction with sparkling blue eyes. He stayed silent a moment, smirk spreading into a grin. "That's the sound of your culture." He looked back to America and leaned back, his hands resting behind his head. "Absolutely nothing."

He had enough.

America growled and slammed a fist on the table. -Eres lo mas irrespetuoso, grosero, inhumano  _desgracia_  de un hombre.  _Yo tengo cultura._ Tengo mas que su  _pequeño, triste excusa_  de una cultura. Tú patético comunista con no moralidad, ¡ _cómo te_   _atreves_! Yo nunca necesité tu aprobación, y yo  _nunca necesitaré_ eso. ¡Estoy  _enferma y cansado_  de todo el mundo pensando sobre mi cultura como no es nada!  _Yo. Tengo. ¡Cultura!_ ¿¡Me escuchas ahora!?

The entire room silenced itself.

America panted as he clutched at the table below him, half standing up with his shoulders squared and his face contorted into a snarl. "How  _dare_  you disrespect my people like that. Disrespect  _me_  like that."

Russia opened his mouth, his bright blue eyes shining with shock, but America stopped him the second he attempted to speak with a hollow, threatening chuckle.

"But, what can I expect from you? You don't respect me. So why should you be  _any_ different now?" He grabbed his phone and stood to his full height. "Why should I ever trust you?" He scoffed and shook his head, throwing his hand in the air as he retreated from the table. " _Pinche idiota_..." He smacked his forehead and threw open the glass door with the light jingle of the bell, then left the room in a tensioned silence.

Russia stared at the closed door in front of him, stunned speechless, and unable to move.

America collapsed down onto the edge of the beach and ran his hands through his hair with a sigh after finally making it home. The sun had started to set on the horizon in front of him, the sky painted with a bloody red and a fiery orange. He rubbed his temples and huffed with frustration when he heard footsteps behind him. He turned around to find Delaware standing there. He sighed and looked back toward the ocean.

"What, not even a hello?"

America only made a sound in acknowledgement.

"The meeting go that badly?" Delaware settled down next to him.

America looked off into the distance and, with a moment's hesitation, slid off his sunglasses for the first time in months, his silvery white eyes staring in front of him. The moment he took his glasses off, his body flickered and glitched and shifted, no longer staying its same shape or color. His body constantly fought itself, flags and insignias of all kinds forcing their way up, then getting torn down by another.

"Look, Delaware, I don't know what the hell I'm doing right now. Could you not joke around right now?"

"Didn't plan on it." Delaware looked away from America as America pinched the bridge of his nose. "What brought this on?"

"Russia.  _Again_." He sighed and rubbed his face with both his hands. "I can't get away from him. He's  _everywhere_. I can't get rid of him. And he won't stop running around to find me!"

Delaware tapped his legs in silence for a moment. "Why do you continue to fight with him?"

"Because he  _aggravates_  it, that's why." He threw his arms up with an exasperated sigh. "He won't leave me alone!  _Every single thing_  I do is  _magnified_ by that  _immoral_   _madman_!"

Delaware patted America's shoulder, ripples of Delaware's flag appearing and disappearing on his skin. "You'll be fine."

America only shook his head. "I need a drink."

"America, no, you've already had a drink this week. You can't be drinking again."

America sighed and shoved his face into his hands. "Right. You're right."

Delaware took his hand away and stared out into the ocean. "Did you at least get to tell him?"

America scoffed. "What's the use? We've hated each other for upwards of fifty years. And, I'm not just going to go against the rest of you, especially on my..." he shook his head as stripes of pink, yellow, and blue drew themselves across his arm like an arm cuff, "well, you know." He bit his pinkie as he watched the sun finally disappear behind the horizon.

Delaware made a low sound in his throat. "You're still thinking about how Soviet got you to talk, aren't you?"

America crossed his arms tightly around himself as the stripes disappeared under a torrent of colors. "Don't... don't bring that up."

"Alright. Alright, I won't." Delaware pulled out his phone. "But, you do know there's nothing wrong with it, right?"

America snorted, a cross flashing around his neck, as well as a figure of a man in a robe holding up a trumpet to his mouth on his wrist, before disappearing. "Sure. Sure there isn't."

Delaware tried to say something, but couldn't find the right words. "America..." he tapped his fingers against his cheek. "Look. I trust your decisions. I really do. And I think just because of your... preferences... it doesn't mean you're anything less of a person."

America hummed in acknowledgement, patting Delaware's shoulder. "Thanks."

Delaware smiled back at America, then jumped when a buzzing sound came from him. He held up his phone, his eyes brightening a moment before he put it away. "I've gotta go. Massachusetts is calling me."

America nodded. "Take your time." He looked back at Delaware. "I'm just going to be sitting here."

Delaware threw him a salute, then answered his phone. "Mass? Hey there. Yeah, I'm coming, just give me a few..." Delaware walked off into the distance a ways to the silver Toyota Camry, the black and gold license plate glistening with a gold '1' and a message at the top which read 'the first state.'

America watched as Delaware took off into the distance, undoubtedly making his way to Boston. He bit his lip and tapped his chin, his mind slipping back to the Cold War, an era in which he tried his best to suppress...

_America sat in one of his country's bars of the time, his relapse hitting him hard. He grabbed the Jack Daniel's and downed the bottle as fast as he could, desperately searching for that buzz he craved for decades. He felt disgusted with himself, yet he couldn't bring himself to stop that craving. He finished the rest of the bottle not a minute later. He put the bottle down on the counter and let through a small sigh._

_"Hello," a voice murmured next to his ear._

_He looked up to the side to see a man with shimmering blue eyes and a charming smile. He somehow stood taller than him, which he almost never thought possible besides his sworn enemy and his brother. He felt that familiar guilty pain when he stared into those blue eyes, a pang of want and shame dangerously mixing together._

_"Hello." He fixed his sunglasses, a slight touch of that southern accent still prevalent in his voice. "Who might you be?"_

_"The name's Anwir." The way the man's eyes shined made his heart jump. "And you?"_

_America turned back around and downed more of his bottle. "George."_

_"Funny. You don't look like a George." Anwir took the seat next to him and traced along the table next to America's arm._

_America snorted and shook his head. "Everyone says that. They say I look more like an Abraham."_

_"You do." Anwir signaled for a glass of Absolut. "It suits your personality."_

_America scoffed. "You hardly know me. How do you know my personality?"_

_"I guess we'll just have to find out." Anwir took a sip of his drink. "Why don't I take you to my place for a barbecue? I'm having a party, and I need one more person to invite."_

_America arched a brow at Anwir and leaned back, still a bit skeptical of the other. "When is the barbecue?"_

_"Tonight around six. How does that sound?" Anwir finished his glass and placed seven dollars on the table. "Don't worry about your bottle, I got that covered."_

_America narrowed his eyes at the other from behind his sunglasses. "A bit friendly, aren't you?"_

_"What's wrong with that? Just looking to make your acquaintance." Anwir leaned forward. "So, why don't I get you to trust me more?" He slid the glass back to the bartender with a nod. "What did you think of the game? The Lions and the Browns?"_

_America chuckled. Ohio is at Michigan's throat over that game. Screaming matches every second, it seemed. The worst defeat suffered in years. "Friends of mind won't stop fighting over it. It was a pretty hefty bet."_

_"I can imagine. The Browns are pretty good." Anwir watched as America took another drink of his Jack Daniel's. "It was a sad day for the Browns."_

_"Tell me about it." America rested his drink back down. "So, where do you live anyway?"_

_"Oh, no no, don't worry. We're within walking distance." Anwir stood up. "Come on, it's nearly six. Why don't we start walking?"_

_America shrugged. "Alright, suit yourself." He downed the rest of his bottle and stood up, following after Anwir with his hands in his slacks pocket. Anwir walked him down the road, speaking with a leisurely tone and relaxed back._

_"You look nice with those sunglasses and that leather jacket."_

_America felt a pang of painful hope in his chest. "Thank you, I suppose."_

_"No problem." He keyed open the front door and palmed it open. A few boxes still stood stacked up on each other in the slightly open closet, and the home looked newly furnished._

_America kicked off his shoes and walked into the living room with his hands still rested in his pocket. Anwir closed the door behind them, then turned to America with a smile._

_"You look dashing in a black leather bomber jacket." Anwir stepped forward and grabbed the front of America's jacket._

_America bit his lip and glanced off to the side, that shameful hope building up again. "Anwir-"_

_Anwir hushed America and shook his head. "You don't have to speak. It's alright." He leaned down to America so they looked straight at each other. "So, have you ever heard the name Frank Kameny?"_

_America swallowed hard and squirmed a bit in Anwir's grasp. "Why should I?"_

_"No reason." Anwir lightly tugged at the belt around the bottom of America's bomber jacket._

_America pushed him away in a fit of panic and walked back toward the door. "I can't do this. I can't-"_

_"George, relax." Anwir took hold of America's wrist to stop him. "Don't worry. I haven't brought you here to hurt you." He hesitated a moment before lacing his fingers through America's. "I want to meet your acquaintance."_

_"You're trying to get me arrested." He tried to open the door, but Anwir stopped him from doing so by standing in front of the door._

_"No, George, listen to me. I'm just as alone as you are." Anwir took hold of both of America's hands. "Please give me a chance. I'm not trying to get you arrested."_

_He stared at the taller man's glittering blue eyes, that same shameful fluttering feeling in his chest. "No, I can't... I can't risk it."_

_"Yes you can. I promise you can." Anwir took hold of America's jaw between both his hands. "You're alright. You're safe with me."_

_America swallowed hard while he stared up at Anwir. "If someone found out-"_

_Anwir hushed him and wrapped his arms around America. "It's alright. I'll keep your secret. Your secret's safe with me. I wouldn't out you if I have the same secret."_

_America tried to struggle away at first, then just curled into Anwir and buried his face in Anwir's chest. He dug his fingers into Anwir's dress shirt, flinching at first when Anwir moved his hand to his back, then relaxing at the slow, comforting back and forth movements Anwir used. America's progress of relaxation eventually led him to pulling away, staring off to the side and pulling at his hands._

_"I'm not here to hurt you, George." Anwir took hold of America's jaw and angled his head back. "I'm here to help you. I want to... I want to be with you. I want someone who understands me. Both of us." Anwir leaned forward, hesitating a moment before pressing a kiss to America's forehead. "Give me a chance."_

_America shook his head and stared off to the side. "I can't... can't do that."_

_Anwir sighed and nodded. "R... Right. Sorry if I backed you into a corner." He rested his hand on America's shoulder. "Can we at least court?"_

_America hesitated. "Anwir, I don't know. I don't know what to do."_

_"So don't worry." Anwir pressed another soft kiss to America's forehead. "You can trust me. I'm here to help you."_

_America swallowed hard as he pulled and tugged at Anwir's tie. "Just give me a little bit. I need to think."_

_"I get it. It's going much too quickly for you." Anwir played with his hair and angled his head up slightly. "Feel free to say no. Don't worry about it." He pulled away and walked toward the kitchen. "Would you like something to drink?"_

_America, much to his disgust, felt himself missing the taller's touch and close vicinity, so he turned back to the kitchen and followed after. "N... No. I need to... go. I need to clear my head."_

_Anwir nodded and turned back to him, handing him a slip of paper with a telephone number. "Call me when you make your decision."_

_America took a moment to reach out and stuff the paper into his jacket pocket. "I... I will."_

_A week later, while America sat in his office, his mind drifted off to Anwir despite the amount of paperwork he had. Especially when he read about the Supreme Court case, One, Inc. v. Olesen. He stared over at his telephone, his hand tapping at the wood of his desk for a moment before he reached up and swiped it from its hook. He took out the slip of paper, holding it up while he slid his fingers over the dial and spun it for each number._

_"Hello, Anwir speaking."_

_America swallowed hard, his chest freezing and tightening as he heard the voice. He didn't really know what to say, he just expected it to... magically happen. He felt his anxiety spike higher than ever before, and he couldn't get a hold of himself._

_He must have gone too long without answering, because he heard Anwir speak again._

_"Hello?"_

_No turning back._

_He opened his mouth and spoke a single word. "Yes."_

_He heard the line go silent for a moment, then Anwir spoke up again. "Alright. You can come over whenever you need."_

_"... Thank you."_

_"Any time."_

_He slowly hung up the phone, then turned back to the papers on the desk with a renewed vigor, running on the remnants of his anxiety still coursing through his system._

_The next day, he made his way back to Anwir's home. He parked his bright red and silver Chevrolet Bel Air on the curb in front of the house, then walked up to the door and knocked on the door. Anwir answered it a moment later with a smile, his bright blue eyes glistening as he pulled him inside._

_"I'm glad you decided."_

_America gave an anxious smile, pulling off his shoes and hanging up his black bombers jacket on the coat rack next to the front door. He heard Anwir shut the door, then felt him take hold of his hand._

_"George, I... I know this is forward, but I wanted to ask if we could take this somewhere more private?"_

_America looked up at Anwir, giving him a nod. "Course we can."_

_Anwir pulled him into the bedroom deeper into the small home and closed the door behind them. "We can do whatever you want." Anwir looked over at America and smiled brighter, the smile sending that fluttering feeling through his chest._

_"Of... of course." He cleared his throat and pulled at his collar._

_Anwir wrapped his arms around America and held him close. "Let's sit down." Anwir walked him and America to the bed and held him close. "Thank you for coming back."_

_America smiled and pulled away. "I didn't want to leave you alone."_

_Anwir brushed a hand through America's hair. "You mean you didn't want to be alone."_

_America swallowed and looked off to the side. "Yeah. Yeah, that's right."_

_"There's no need to be ashamed, I understand." Anwir pressed a kiss to America's ear. "Would you like to feel a bit more relaxed?"_

_America swallowed hard and shivered, his hands curling into his lap. "I don't know. I just... I don't know."_

_"It's alright. Just relax." Anwir slowly unbuttoned America's shirt and kissed along his exposed collarbone. "You'll be alright."_

_America bit his lip hard, feeling his body heat up with an anticipation he hadn't felt in years. He didn't resist when Anwir pushed him down onto the bed, letting Anwir take care of the both of them for the night._

_He woke up next to Anwir and found him reading a book, the sheets pooling around his waist as he reclined back against the headboard. America turned around and rested his jaw in his hand, watching him from behind his sunglasses, until Anwir closed his book and turned to him._

_"How do you feel?" Anwir traced his fingers through his hair as America laid down._

_America leaned into Anwir's touch and looked down at the book in his hand. "I'm alright."_

_"Would you like anything to eat?"_

_"No. I'm alright. I have to get to work." He sat up and reluctantly pulled away from Anwir. "Thank you. It means... a lot."_

_Anwir smiled and kissed America's hand. "You're welcome."_

_He swiped the clothes off the floor and slid them on, making his way to the front door. "Until next time!"_

_"Until next time, George."_

_America grew less and less suspicious of Anwir the more they spent time together. He trust him. And, dare he say he... he loved him. It felt like every waking moment, he felt obligated to keep his domain safe for the one who deserved it. He promoted more education opportunities, pushed for Civil Rights, everything he could. He wanted to rectify everything the people of his country failed to for two centuries, but no matter what he tried to do, the people of his country always had different ideas. He grew closer to Anwir every day, until one fateful night, while laying next to him, he started his biggest mistake of the Cold War._

_America had his head rested on Anwir's chest with a hand on his stomach. Anwir played with his hair and held him close while America debated something._

_"Anwir. I want to continue a more intimate relationship with you."_

_Anwir's hand stopped._

_"I want to continue to be with you. Everything I have been doing for the past few months has been for you. And..." he picked his head up and looked into those shining, bright blue eyes, "and I want you to trust me, just as I have grown to trust you. So..." he swallowed hard and pulled at his fingers for a moment, then grabbed Anwir's hand. "Anwir, I'm... my name's not George. And, I'm not a human in any traditional sense of the word." He squeezed his hand as though seeking comfort, struggling to keep his emotions under control. "I'm the physical embodiment of this country. I have lived for over two hundred years now. And I shouldn't be in a relationship with you, because I know you won't live for very long, but I can't help but feel attached to you." He let out a slow breath and pulled his hand away. "You probably don't believe me, which is fine. But, I just needed to tell you. I'm... I'm America."_

_He waited for Anwir to laugh, to call him crazy, maybe even say he needs to get his head checked as he waited in an anxious silence. He waited for the only one he could rely on to finally turn on him. As though anticipating it, he scooted away from Anwir, and curled his fingers into the sheets. Instead, he felt Anwir's hand rest on top of his own and squeeze it. He looked up at Anwir, his fears somehow dying away the moment he saw Anwir's soft smile and glistening blue eyes._

_"It's an honor to be with the biggest man in the country." He leaned down and pressed a kiss to America's forehead, causing the anxiety to immediately melt to nothing. "You know you can tell me if you get too stressed, right? You can talk to me. I'll help you with whatever you need."_

_"You don't think I'm crazy?"_

_"No. Not at all." Anwir pulled him down on top of him and coaxed him into another kiss, America relaxing instantly into the other._

_He told Anwir too much. He told him about plans he had abroad, some research about military weaponry, and even internal research in his new space program, NASA. He had no one else he could trust more fully than the one person who shared his struggle. He made a habit to get together with Anwir every Saturday, spending time together in each other's arms with bright smiles and soft touches._

_One Saturday evening, while he and Anwir watched television, Anwir turned to him and played with his hair._

_"America, I have something for you."_

_America looked up and frowned. "What is it?"_

_"Well, I knew it was your birthday yesterday because," Anwir chuckled nervously, "I assumed your birthday is July fourth. So, I got you something."_

_America stared down at Anwir's hands as he held up a necklace to him. The long body of the necklace looked like a small strip of leather held together by rings and a hook of glistening silver. As a piece on the necklace which hung down from the leather, the shape looked like a silver key, the back engraved with a small cursive 'A'. He reverently took hold of the necklace, letting Anwir place it around his neck as he admired the gift._

_He never took it off from that day forward._

_Anwir showered him with gifts, as did America for Anwir. He felt like someone finally cared for him, and he wanted Anwir to feel just as special as he felt when Anwir treated him so. He even invited Anwir to his home for a weekend, where they felt happy, content._

_Everything changed on October 15th, 1962._

_America caught wind of Soviet sending missiles on a ship down to Cuba, and he began to panic. Everyone began to panic. For fourteen days straight, everyone waited in a state of fearful uncertainty, and America distanced himself from Anwir to work. He didn't eat, nor sleep, nor even move besides grabbing telephones and preparing for the death of the world at the order of DEFCON 2. He retracted the missiles from Turkey, held back his Navy, and stared death in the face when he called Soviet to turn his ships around. The moment it ended, America retreated to Anwir's home and keyed it open, intent on making a celebratory dinner for the both of them. As soon as he finished, he dished two plates and made his way to the bedroom door. Just as he brought up his arm to knock, he heard a phone ring in Anwir's room, then a groan, and the worst scare of his life at the sound of the voice that answered the phone._

_«Алло»_

_America felt his world come crashing down. Everything he ever believed in, that he ever wished for, became a lie in the utterance of a simple phrase. The love he felt never had the intent of reciprocation. The one he loved only used him for monetary gain. Nothing he did meant a single thing to the one who he shared everything with. The immoral monster in the other room only wanted to bring him down._

_He threw the plates to the ground and sprinted out of the home as fast as he could, slamming open the door and escaping into his car, tears streaming down his face as he took off down the road. He didn't know where to go, who to turn to. Nothing made sense anymore. Everything threw him for a loop, and now, he had nothing to rely on. He drove for hours on end and didn't stop until he found himself back on the beach of Chesapeake Bay. He sobbed into his arms and clawed at them, his glasses falling off with his body glitching furiously, feverishly. How could the only stable thing in his life be nothing but an elaborate lie? How could the only one who connected to him in this way be so, so evil? How could the one he... the one he love betray him for Communism?_

_He felt his resolve harden from an overwhelming sadness, to a powerful, burning rage. How dare he. How dare he disrespect his country like this. How dare he disrespect his people like this. How dare the Communist stoop so low. How dare the immoral Communist manipulate him. How dare he._

_He cut off the one he thought he could trust, yanked off the necklace he gave him, and shoved it into the bag with the rest of the gifts he received, which he threw into a cut off section of his home._

_A little more than two years later, he got news from Texas of Kennedy's assassination. He knew Anwir had to be connected somehow, no matter what the investigations stated about the situation. He got anonymous telephone calls every day, taunting him with more or less the same message._

_"Thank you for the information, Pillow Biter. This intel will surely help improve our cause."_

_He felt stagnant. He watched the world pass him by as he wasted away finishing his job. He watched impassively as scandals overtook the White House, and as his economy slowed to a stop. Things only got better when Soviet had crumbled to nothing, and America finally met - truly met - the one who destroyed his life._

_America got off the plane, putting on his faux arrogant grin as he walked into Moscow. When he entered the office, he found Russia, the one standing there achingly familiar._

_When Russia turned around and revealed those blue eyes, America wanted nothing more than to destroy the one in front of him. He wanted to grip his neck and choke him until his arms screamed at him to stop. He also felt that same shameful fluttering in his chest as Russia smiled at him and welcomed him inside._

_Russia. Russia was Anwir. The first born son of his greatest enemy had infiltrated his life, and torn it apart. Sabotaged string by string._

_"Hello, America. I am Russia."_

America wiped his eyes free of tears, only for more to replace them the moment he took his hands away. To his knowledge, Russia had thrown away everything he had ever given to him. Russia continued to act as though he never ripped his ability to trust people away from him. He continued to maintain his innocence, and now never left him alone. Every place he ever went to had some sort of mention or presence of Russia in it. No matter how hard he tried to escape, Russia always found a way to infiltrate once again.

He heard steps coming toward him from behind, so he immediately threw on his sunglasses to stabilize himself. He listened to the steps stop just behind him, then someone kneel down next to him. He looked over and found, to his...  _mild_  annoyance, Russia.

"What do you want?" America muttered, staring off into the ocean in the dark of night.

"You know, it's so annoying to try and talk to you."

America wanted nothing more but to snap at him. He wanted to rip the man who ruined his life apart.

"Do you not realize that I could have made everything so much worse for you? Do you not realize that I could have ruined your relations with your father, or your mother, or destroyed everything you ever knew and loved? I had the power to bring you down a thousand times over."

America dug his nails into the ground until they nearly felt them get ripped off. He wanted nothing more than to destroy him. He wanted to tear every remnant of Russia from the face of Earth like he did with his life all those years ago.

Russia looked back over at America. "But I didn't. I didn't because I couldn't see you gone. I couldn't bear to see you ruined. In the beginning, I will admit, I wanted nothing more than to bring you down at my father's request. But, when you finally trusted me like you did, and we got closer, I just..." he sighed. "This is so damn hard for me, you know that? All these decades were just as much Hell for me as it was you. And you can't stop yourself and realize that I protected you. I protected you from my father. I barely told him anything. I told him the  _bare minimum_. The only thing I told him about was NASA, and even  _that_  was minimal. I never gave any of the photos to anyone. I never told your father, or your mother, or your brothers and sisters. I told them nothing because-"

"Stop."

Russia blinked and stared at him in shock. "What?"

"I said stop." America crossed his arms, a torrent of emotions tearing his mind apart. Pain, regret, shame, want, denial, hatred. "Just stop. You can't say that. Stop saying that."

"Amer-"

"You can't tell me you loved me! You can't tell me you wanted to stay with me!" He clutched at Russia's arms, tears streaming down his face. "Stop it! Stop lying to me!"

Russia stared up at him with shining blue eyes, struggling to try to keep talking, but America shut him up by continuing to shout. How dare he. How dare he.

"You don't love me, and you never did!"

How dare the immoral monster try to ruin his life again.

"Stop it! Shut up! Just shut up and stay away from me! Stay out of my life!"

How dare he not say anything. How dare he take advantage of him again.

"Leave me alone! Stay away from me and let me live my life! Let me hold onto the past!"

He broke down into sobs and curled into himself, his face shoved into his hands as his emotions boiled over. He wanted nothing more than to have someone to talk to. He wanted nothing more than to trust people again. But, no matter what he did, it always seemed like the wrong choice.

"Stop. Just stop."

He curled into a tight ball and buried his face into his arms, his hands hiding his head. He wanted to trust someone. He wanted to feel close with someone again. Why did Russia want to hold his emotions captive? Why did he hold so much power on his emotions? Why did he continue to suffer like this when Russia could walk around free and destroy his life without a care?

He felt a hand on his shoulder, which he flinched away from. He felt the hand hesitate, before resting back down on his shoulder again.

"America..." Russia trailed off. "America, I never wanted to tell you because I feared you leaving like you did."

"Years, Russia. You had years to tell me." He stared up at Russia, tears furiously rolling down his face. "You could have told me."

"I know, America." Russia swallowed hard and pulled America close to his chest, almost exactly like he had all those years ago. "I regret every moment. I do."

America struggled in his hold. He wanted to stay as far away from the man who ruined his life as possible, yet he couldn't find the strength to push him away. In fact, he felt himself doing the opposite. He sobbed into Russia's chest, unable to regulate any of his emotions. They all poured out a jumbled mess into Russia's shirt, everything he ever wanted, needed, regretted, missed, and dare he say loved displaying himself in the way he pressed close to Russia, clawing at his back and burying his face in his chest. He felt Russia's hands trace up and down his back, and heard him murmur into his ear sweet nothings.

He hated how painful everything felt. He just wanted it to stop, to go back in time. He wanted to stay with Russia while he still knew him as Anwir, the one who loved him unconditionally, and the one who he could trust with anything and everything. He wanted Anwir back. Not Russia.  _Anwir_. He knew that could never happen, and he knew Russia could try to reestablish that, but nothing could ever truly represent what he felt in those five years. He could try again with Russia, or even with someone else, but he knew that no one could replicate that. He just had to... to move on.

"Please give me a chance."

America sniffled and stared down at his lap. As much as he wanted to, he couldn't bring himself to say yes or no. He didn't know what to feel.

Russia lifted up his chin, those bright blue eyes shining desperately at him. "Please."

He pulled away to sit in front of him, his hands curled into his lap as he stared at the other. He took a slow breath to calm himself, then reached up and wiped his eyes. He counted to ten in his mind, clasped his hands together, and began to think.

With a lot of deliberation, debating back and forth, and convincing himself to speak, he finally gave his answer.


	2. Unpopular Ships? Yes Please

"I'm sorry, but no."

America arched a brow, a bit of confusion swirling around him. "What?"

"You always act so high and mighty, like you rule the world." She shrugged and looked off to the side. "Neck-deep in all the drama. Always talking bad about the past. I _don't_ need that kind of trouble in my life." Israel stood up and walked back toward the other wall, which held up a painting of her and Palestine, a man with dark chocolate brown hair and caramel skin. "I'm no Iran, and I'm no Philippines." She turned to him, her hands rested behind her back. "I didn't even like you when your president was Harry Truman."

He shrugged and took a swig of his coke, his ego obviously taking a blow. "Personally, I'm more of an Abraham Lincoln kind of guy."

She sighed walked over to the other wall, where she threw open the curtains in front of her to look out into the clear night sky. "I'm just not into guys like you. So raw and unrefined. Not particularly promising on your promises, either."

"Well- I mean, I'm a flawed superpower, but that's what makes me so relatable."

"You superpowers are all the same. You act all high and mighty, like you don't care about the smaller countries."

America stood up and dropped his bottle onto the table. " _I_ care about smaller countries."

"If it economically benefits you." She shrugged. "Rich boys with fancy weapons just aren't my type."

He took a step closer to her. "Then what _is_ your type?"

She draped herself across the balcony, her hair flowing in the breeze. "Maple syrup is my weakness."

America sputtered. " _What_?"

"The most refined I have ever seen." She smirked out into the darkness as America made his way to her side.

"You know what, fine. You're not into me, but let me tell you you're missing out." He stood next to her, bending down so his hands rested down on the cement balcony. "I've got the power to give you anything you want. I'm a self-made man, and I didn't get everything by crying back to my dad. I can make anything happen. I have the most influence of any country in the world." He took hold of her and spun her into his chest, one hand rested on her waist as the other held her hand. "Give me one chance, and I swear I can change your mind."

"I need someone strong who's not afraid of commitment and relationships." She walked her fingers up his grey wool Shetland with a hum. "Someone who stands with pride and doesn't stay isolated for three quarters of a war and ally with someone at the end. And, men like you are afraid of any kind of full relationship. You're a play boy."

He bit his lip and took hold of her hand, his usually confident demeanor now battered down into a million fractured pieces by only a few simple phrases. "Look. I'll commit to being your ally. I'll give you anything you want. I find you admirable. Your courage in war, your fire. Your victory in Six Day was..." he trailed off with a nervous chuckle, "wow."

She arched a brow at him with her bright blue eyes flicking over him. "I... suppose so."

"I admit, I'm not the best when it comes to commitment, but I want to say that I can absolutely try for you if that's what you really want."

She hummed and took hold of his jaw in a single hand. She coaxed him downward and leaned into his ear not a moment later with a smirk now back on her lips. "You want a date? Alright. I'll give you a date." She stood back and walked back toward the door. "At a later time."

He grinned and followed after her. "Thank you, Israel. I really appreciate it."

"Why's that? Afraid you won't look good because you don't have a girlfriend by your side?"

"No. It's more of..." he sighed and shrugged. "I don't know. Nevermind. It's nothing important."

Israel looked up at him, her vibrant eyes questioning him. "Afraid of something?"

"No. No, nothing like that." America shook his head and turned back to the black midnight in front of him. "I guess I just... I don't know."

"A man of many words."

He chuckled. "If you really must know, I really just think you're an interesting person. And, since I didn't really expect you to get out of Six Day, well..." he trailed off, tapping his thumbs against the cement of the balcony.

"You didn't think you could get a chance," she finished. She giggled and shook her head. "Well, that, and you were still a bit mad about the whole... Suez Canal thing. Right?"

He gave a small nod. "On the dot."

"Well, here's your chance."

He flashed a smile, this one much less arrogant than normal. "Thanks. Means a lot."

She smiled back and gestured him to follow him back inside. "You're welcome. Why don't we go back in? Talk things over a bit more. We didn't really eat the rest of our supper."

He fixed his sunglasses and followed after her. "Yes ma'am."

...

America glanced over at Texas and California, the former laughing and pouring margaritas while the latter adjusted the sunglasses on his face and put himself in a provocative pose - without his shirt as per usual - and grinned. He rubbed his face and pinched his nose when screaming came from the other room. He ran his hand down his face and walked out of the room, sighing and closing the door behind him.

Texas glanced over to where America just exited the room. "Looks like you're stuck with me now, Cali-boy." He plucked off the dark sunglasses to reveal deep, velvet-maroon right eye, and a chocolate left eye on the other side. He hummed in satisfaction. "There. Much better."

California scoffed and shoved Texas' face away from his. "You say that like my eyes are a special color."

Texas chuckled and leaned back with a margarita held in his hand while he slid California one as well. "They are. Not many of us have brown. It makes you look interesting."

"Well, not all of us have a literal _white star_ in our right eye and a red left eye. Why do _you_ hide your eyes under that cowboy hat, hm?"

"Why not? Anyone with an ounce of knowledge about us knows who I am. The tall, handsome, heavily built state with more money than every other state."

California rolled his eyes. "Nearly."

"Besides you, m' darlin'." He took hold of California's chin between his thumb and pointer finger and placed a short peck on his lips. "For now, anyway."

California scoffed and took a sip of his margarita. "You can try."

Texas grinned and tipped his hat. "I'm just gettin' started, m' darlin."

California shook his head and took another sip. "Damn, you can make a fine margarita when you actually care."

"What can I say? I'm known for my wide array of beers and margaritas." He poured all kinds of alcohols seamlessly into the saucer-shaped glass, somehow knowing America planned to reappear at that very moment. "Take this, partner."

America collapsed into the chair and downed the slushy, frosted drink in front of him. With a sigh and a tilt of his head, he set the glass back down and massaged his temples with both his hands. "Thanks, Texas. I swear to God Almighty, none of you can keep out of trouble."

"Something happen?" California took another sip of his drink, leaning into Texas' hand when Texas began brushing his fingers along his cheek and combing through his hair.

Just as America opened his mouth to answer, more screaming erupted from another part of the house. He just let out a slow sigh and stood up before dragging himself out of the room once more.

Texas chuckled and coaxed California closer to him. He leaned down to California's ear as he traced along his arm with a grin. "You know, it's been quite a long time since I've seen you."

California arched a brow over at Texas with his other hand still holding the glass. "Something you want?"

Texas walked around the bar and pressed California to the marble counter. "I'm sure you know what I want." He traced along California's jaw with a single finger.

California grinned and gripped at Texas' shirt. "Oh, I'm not so sure. I think I need a hint."

"A hint, hm?"

Texas picked California up bridal-style, causing California to yelp and giggle, and wound his way through the halls of the house, then to the sleek black F-150 parked in the designated parking spot. He pinned California to the leather seats in the back, gripping at California's sides and holding him close. California curled into Texas' arms and buried his face in Texas' neck while Texas traced up and down his sides.

"Your burns are going away," Texas muttered into California's ear, nipping at it as he traced along the fading red marks along his stomach. "The wet winter really seemed to help you this year. Not as many fires happening."

"Yeah." California played off his shiver as shifting around before kissing the black cannon and star tattoo on Texas' chest, then along the sharp black tribal lines on his upper arm and along the ones not currently hidden behind a shirt on his shoulder.

"Am I with the right California? He usually talks his mouth off. What have you done with him?" Texas walked his fingers up California's chest, causing the smaller to giggle.

"Oh, hush, you." California laced his fingers in Texas' hair and pressed his lips against Texas', the larger letting a low, almost predatory growl escape his throat as he kissed back.

"Why don't I take you home with me?"

California smirked up at Texas. "You're already halfway there. Why not just go with it? It's not like America really needs us when the other states are screaming at each other."

Texas laughed and pulled California up while hopping into the driver's seat and depositing California in the passenger's. "Let's go, then."

Texas revved up the truck and peeled out of the parking lot while California blasted some purposefully chosen trashy country rap. To his delight, not even a second later, Texas screamed to "get the unholy demon music out of this truck _immediately!"_ with California cackling like a madman the whole ride to Austin.

...

... okay, maybe one popular ship.

Canada watched Ukraine rant across the table with his chin rested upon the back of his propped up hand. He couldn't wipe away the smile growing on his face even if he wanted to. Somehow, he got Ukraine to talk about some new TV show he started watching, and my, did he enjoy it. Canada heard the words 'love' and 'perfect' given out more times in a single sitting than he received from Ukraine in an entire month. Canada even joked that Ukraine marry the show rather than he himself, which Ukraine playfully agreed with. Canada decided he might as well join Ukraine on the couch in their shared home to watch this new show with him, cleaning up the last of supper and shouting for Alexa to turn on the TV.

At some point, while he finished the dishes in the kitchen, Ukraine got dressed into some more comfy night clothes and buried himself in mountains of pillows and blankets. Canada couldn't help but snicker at Ukraine's shenanigans as he passed him on his way to the bedroom, where he traded out his usual attire for something more loose. He grabbed for a simple white tank top, then some basketball shorts, and backtracked to the living room, where Ukraine somehow made a spot for him in the structured mess of fabric and fluff. He took Ukraine into his arms and held him close while they watched the show together, Ukraine's glittering gold and royal blue eyes trained on the TV as though it might contain the secrets of life.

Canada, though he tried to get engaged in it, ended up just snuggling around Ukraine with his arms rested around his waist and his face nuzzled into his neck. He heard Ukraine gasp or whisper his responses to certain situations in the episode as the minutes ticked by almost too fast for Canada to comprehend. He closed his eyes and wove his fingers together in Ukraine's lap with a sense of calm settling over him while he held the other. He let his mind drift off into a lulling quiet, letting Ukraine fanboy in his hold while he relaxed. Right around when the episode ended, he felt Ukraine shift around in his lap, then twist around.

Canada lifted up his head off Ukraine's shoulder to look down at the smaller with a leisurely smile. "How was the episode?"

Ukraine smiled back and nuzzled his head under Canada's chin, his arms resting around Canada's waist. "It was good."

Canada grinned and brought his hand up to play with Ukraine's hair. "That's good."

Ukraine hummed in agreement and leaned his head into Canada's hand.

The two settled into a comfortable silence, snuggling into each other for the first time in what felt like years, and relaxing into the kilos of fluff. At some point, Canada heard Ukraine's breathing even out and felt his body grow heavier in his hold. Canada looked down at Ukraine with a soft smile, pressing a light kiss to the top of his head and pulling off some of the blankets and pillows so he could stand up and turn off the TV. He picked up Ukraine and cradled him close as he made his way to their bedroom, taking care not to wake up the light sleeper. With one last peck to Ukraine's forehead, he curled around him in bed and closed his eyes with a hand rested on his hip.

"Good night, Ukraine."

...

America tipped the bottle and downed its contents a bit faster than necessary. The clear, water-like liquid burned as it slid down his throat, a pleasant buzz just starting to swim around in his mind. He set down the bottle with a slow sigh and closed his eyes.

"America drinking. Never thought I'd see the day."

America looked over to the man in the seat next to him at the bar, his green and orange eyes shining despite the dim lighting. "You say that like I've never had a drink in my life." He tipped the bottle again and took another long drink.

"And you go for the hard stuff too. Smirnoff? You must be more Russian than I thought."

He took the bottle away from his lips and set it down on the counter with a sigh. "Haven't had a drink in a while," he answered simply. "What are you going to do now, ask if my head is screwed on right or something?"

"No." Ireland signaled for the bar owner and asked for a Guinness before turning back to America. "Just ask whether or not you need a drinking partner."

America arched a brow at the other, but said nothing in protest. In fact, he almost... preferred it. Not for the speaking aspect, no. More just to solidify that, yes, he could have someone to talk to should he need it. Not that he felt like speaking in any sort of manner in that moment. Instead, he just downed more of his bottle while Ireland took up a glass of his own. Unlike what America thought, Ireland just left him alone. He didn't attempt to speak at all, nor did he ask any questions. It felt refreshing. Like nothing obligated him to socialize, or to act a certain way.

He heard Ireland shift next to him, which caused him to look up at the other. He saw Ireland sipping on his drink, staring forward, humming some sort of low tune he couldn't really hear. He had to admit - even if he felt a sense of dread about it - that the man really knew how to dress to impress. Something fitting, yet not too fitting. He stepped on that fine line between modesty and exaggeration, never crossing either side, yet pushing the boundaries every time. Stubborn, but not hard-headed. Confident, but not arrogant. How he became friends with Ireland in the first place, he could never really remember. Now, he had a bit of a strong admiration for him. A revelation which, throughout much of his life, scared him. But now, he felt a bit more comfortable with it.

That's when a thought popped into his head. What if he finally put his internal fighting to an end? A simple question about a date couldn't hurt, could it?

He shook his head and downed more of his vodka, his throat burning when he clinked the glass back against the counter. No. He already had a thousand other problems to deal with. He's under a lot of stress as it is, he doesn't need more.

"Is there a reason you're staring at me?"

America choked and coughed into his arm, trying to hide the embarrassing shade of pink trying to light up his cheeks. "No. Just in thought. Sorry."

Ireland snorted. "Seems like a bit more than that."

America shook his head and rubbed the back of his neck, still coughing every so often. "No. No, it's nothing."

"So there _is_  something you want to tell me."

America cursed to himself in his mind. Why did Ireland have to be so good at this? "No. It's nothing."

Ireland shrugged and sipped on his nearly black drink. "Suit yourself."

America stared down at the counter, tapping at it with his fingers while he continued to drink. He had to make a decision soon. He knew Ireland expected at least that from him. He clutched at his bottle, his mind warring with itself no matter what he did to try to calm it. Should he ask Ireland? No, he already had enough to worry about. But what if he can help you? No, no one really tried to help him like that, and Ireland probably wouldn't be that exception even if he wanted it to. But what if Ireland-

"Now you have to tell me what's wrong."

America blinked and turned his head to Ireland. "What?"

Ireland squished both sides of America's face between his hands and narrowed his eyes at him. "I know you're going through some things, but you can't isolate yourself forever. You have to be more open like you were during the Cold War. It won't help your situation."

America shook his head and grabbed for the bottle, only for Ireland to swipe it from him and put it down. "Ireland-"

"America, why are you trying to hide yourself? You have to open up at some point."

"What caused this surge of concern, then?" He turned away from Ireland and rubbed at his temples. "I have the States. I don't need to-"

"You need _someone_ , America." Ireland gripped America's wrist and pulled him out of the bar. "Come on."

"Whoa whoa whoa, where are we going? Ireland-"

"Shut up a moment, won't you?"

America closed his mouth and stared off to the side, seeing no point in arguing with someone who he knew eventually got him to follow around everywhere anyway.  So, he just kept in line, staring off to the side, and refusing to say anything unless Ireland indicated him to do so. He somehow got shoved into Ireland's pearl white Jaguar-I-PACE, and now ended up at Ireland's home in Dublin. Instead of getting out, however, he just stopped the car and looked over to him.

"America. You need an outlet."

America swallowed hard and looked off to the side. "I don't-"

"I saw you crying."

That shut him up. _Crying?_   How in _Hell_  did he start crying? When? He _never_ cried. Is he really that stressed?

"And I know you don't like talking about it, so why don't we do something to help you open up?" Ireland pulled America closer by his collar. "Look. I'm just going to go on and say it. We've been friends for longer than I like. Now I want to rectify that."

Before America could even react, Ireland had him pinned against his door, furiously kissing him, then backing away as fast as he approached. America laid against the door, stunned into silence, panting and staring up at Ireland from behind his sunglasses.

"Whoa," came his brilliant response.

Ireland smirked, his hands on either side of his head. "I take it you agree?"

America couldn't help but laugh, _decades_  of stress suddenly alleviating themselves from his shoulders. "More than you can _imagine_. Now, get your ass down here." He yanked Ireland down so their faces now only had an inch at most between them. "I need a pick-me-up, and I'm sure you do to by the way you're acting tonight."

Ireland complied in just a half a second.

...

"Russia!"

Russia turned around to find the small island girl with a bright grin on her face.

"Look what I found!"

Russia looked down at the picture held in her hands, a picture of her, him, and their father. It looked like the picture took place while in the midst of the fall of 1962. It happened forever ago, it seemed, yet not long ago at all. He kneeled down to the smaller to get a better look at it, as well as offer her a hug.

"Where'd you find that?"

She shrugged and wrapped her arms around him. "I dunno, I was just looking through old stuff. How are you doing? You haven't come to see me as much."

He shrugged back and pulled away, resting his hands on her shoulders. "Just working. Are you at least doing alright?"

She nodded and gave him a bright little smile. "Yeah. I kinda miss you, though."

He nodded and gave her one of his rare smiles. "I'll try to come over more frequently. How does that sound?"

Her bright red and dark blue eyes brightened with an excited gasp. "Really?"

He felt his lips tilt higher at her pure enthusiasm. "Yes, really."

"Great. Oh! Come in, come in!" She ushered him into her home. "Do you need anything? A drink? Something to eat?"

"Doesn't really matter to me." He settled down on one of the couches, which she did the same.

"I missed seeing you."

He pulled her into a side hug. "I missed seeing you too."

One of the few family members who continued to stay with him.

"Hey! Why don't we do something?"

Russia arched a brow down at his little sister. "Oh really, like what?"

She shrugged. "Dunno. What do you wanna do?"

He snorted. "We'll be here all day if we start the 'no, what do _you_ wanna do' cycle again."

"Oh yeah, you're right." She giggled and snuggled into her brother's side. "Oh, how is your dating with China going?"

Russia made an unnatural sound. "How did you know about that?" His voice turned up an octave.

"Everyone knows, Russia." She laughed and laid back against the couch. "Ever since you broke it off with Vietnam, people started noticing."

He sighed and shook his head. "And here I thought I was being inconspicuous."

"You? Inconspicuous? Never." She laid her head on his chest. "But really, what's China like?"

"Cool. Really smart. Kind of like Japan except less... oh, what's the word Japan used..."

"'Weeby'?"

"That's the word." He bumped his nose against her cheek, causing her to laugh.

"That's good. Wouldn't want you hating who you're dating. Hey, that rhymed!"

"You dork." He poked her cheek, unable to stop chuckling. "Yeah, I'm glad I'm not stuck in a relationship."

"That would kind of suck, wouldn't it?"

"Yeah." He ruffled her hair with a grin, causing her to yelp.

"Hey! Stop that!"

"Make me." He grinned wider while he stood up, sprinting out of the room as Cuba screamed after him.

"Get back here, you!"

"Never!"

He laughed at Cuba's frustrated sprinting right behind.

 


	3. Extremely OOC

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This manifested itself into a full fledged book should you be interested!
> 
> [Book](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18536635/chapters/43935049)

Soviet held Nazi in his lap, nuzzling his neck and grinning as they listened to the TV, giggling as Nazi giggled poked his cheek.

"No, you goofball, you know I get ticklish when you do that."

Soviet hummed and grinned wider, his hands sliding down to Nazi's sides. "I'm sorry?"

Nazi yelped and tried to push Soviet's hands away, but Soviet already accomplished his mission. He started tickling Nazi's sides, which caused him to squirm and break out laughing.

"No!" He tried to squirm out of Soviet's hold, which only happened because of a knock at the door not too long later. "Hey hey, let me go, I gotta go see who it is."

Soviet followed after him, unable to distinguish the mischievous glint in his glittering gold eyes and the bright, joyful grin. "I suppose you're off the hook... for now."

Nazi laughed and opened the door, turning to see who stood there. "Hall-"

The light and joyful air immediately died into a tense silence.

UK stood stiff in the middle of their doorway, suit pulled straight, and tight posture with a strained smile.

"... o."

Soviet protectively wrapped his arms around Nazi's stomach and stared at UK from behind Nazi. "What brings you here?" He asked, his voice lacking any hint of happiness and instead replaced by a cold, barely contained edge of territorialism.

"I only come asking of your cooperation in the meeting in two days." UK glanced down at Nazi with a barely masked look of disdain, all while he kept on his smile. "We have matters to discuss regarding your... Communist Family."

Soviet growled, not unlike a feral dog, but Nazi stopped him before he could start anything by interjecting into the conversation. "Can we discuss at a different time? This week is very important and-"

UK shook his head, fixing his top hat. "No. We've been hearing reports of families - families you have control over - trying to sabotage different parts of the city."

Nazi rested a hand on Soviet's when he felt Soviet begin to tense up again and tried his best to answer UK. "What do you mean by sabotage, exactly?"

"Must I explain myself if  _you_  called the orders?"

Soviet made a low sound. "We will be at the meeting. Can you leave us be?"

UK nodded and turned heel. "Two days, 16:30 on the dot."

Soviet grabbed the door. "Of course, wouldn't dream of missing it." He slammed the door closed at little more forcefully than he meant to, his face contorting into a snarl and his golden eyes blazing.

"Hey, there's no need to worry about it now." Nazi brushed his hand along Soviet's arm. "He can't do anything to us in our own home. We're alright." He took hold of Soviet's hands and pressed them to his stomach. "We're alright."

Soviet sighed slowly and curled into him with his forehead rested against his. "You... you're right. We're alright."

Nazi smiled, pressing a kiss to Soviet's chin. "Right. Here, why don't we go get something to eat before you have to take off to your job?"

Soviet hummed and kissed along Nazi's shoulder. "Of course."

...

Soviet brushed his finger along Russia's tiny cheek as he slept on his chest. He rested a protective hand over the little body laying on top of him, a sense of pride warming his very soul at the sight. His son.  _His_  son. This precious child he held was  _his_ son.

He heard the door open in front of him and there stood Nazi, his expression softening at the sight of the both of them. He walked over to them and settled on the bed, curling into Soviet's side and brushing his hand over Russia's back.

"Isn't he beautiful?" Soviet moved his other hand to take hold of Nazi's free one.

"He'll no doubt grow up to be a handsome boy. Just like his father."

Soviet's cheeks dusted a light pink. "Oh hush, you flirtatious scoundrel."

Nazi giggled and hushed him. "The baby's sleeping, not so loud."

Soviet rolled his eyes with a grin on his face and a shake of his head. He turned his attention back to Russia, leaning down and pressing a soft kiss to the top of his head.

"I will do anything to protect the both of you. Maybe the three of you." He looked back over at Nazi. "If you want another."

Nazi smiled, pressing a kiss to Soviet's chin. "I think that's a wonderful idea. He'll have a little sibling to have fun with."

"Or bully around." Soviet grinned.

Nazi snorted. "Or bully around."

Soviet and Nazi both looked down when a tiny sound mixed between a grunt and a groan came from the small child still peacefully sleeping away. Soviet's heart swelled at the sound, brushing his finger along Russia's soft, chubby cheek.

"I could never grow tired of him," he murmured, resting his head on Nazi's chest.

Nazi smiled and kissed Soviet's temple. "He's our pride and joy." He rested a hand on Russia's back.

Russia made another soft sound in his sleep and shifted slightly before blinking open his eyes and looking up at the both of them, his sapphire blue eyes twinkling as he yawned. Soviet's heart melted at the sight.

«Здравствуй, мой сын.» He brushed his thumb just under his eye.

Nazi smiled and held his finger out to Russia's hand, to which he latched onto and made another sound, his tiny face lighting up with the most adorable little smile, pulling his finger to his mouth and chewing on it.

Soviet and Nazi both gushed over their son, holding him close. Soviet nuzzled Russia's nose with his while Nazi kissed Russia's tiny knuckles. Russia made a few sounds of his own and wiggled around in Soviet's hold, his eyes bright with curiosity and a vibrant joy.

...

"Dada! Dada! Look what I made!"

Soviet looked up from his papers of contracts, reports, and armistice agreements and hummed in question. Russia stood in front of him, bouncing up and down where he stood with a bright grin on his face. Soviet grinned and set down his papers next to him, then gestured Russia to come closer.

"What is it, Россия?"

Russia clambered onto Soviet's lap and snuggled into his chest. "I made something for you!"

"Oh really? What did you make me?" He wrapped his arms around Russia as he snuggled and hugged him back.

"Lemme show you!" He squirmed around, then grabbed something from his backpack. He pulled out a small paper, then held it up to Soviet's face. "Do you like it?"

Soviet took hold of the paper and held it up. His smile slowly grew wider and wider the more he stared at it. The picture looked about as good as he expected, four little stick figures in the middle of the page. The two tallest ones stood on the outside, one with yellow circle eyes while the other had red, and two smaller ones in the middle, one with blue eyes and the other with yellow. They all tried to hold hands in some way, standing on a green squiggly line. Under the green grass, a word in messy handwriting read 'Familie.'

Soviet looked up and pulled Russia into another hug. "I love your picture, Россия. It's amazing."

He puffed out his chest and flashed a confident, adorable smile. "Daddy helped me drawl it. He says I can be a really good drawler like him some day."

Soviet grinned and squeezed Russia close. "You'll be an amazing drawer when you grow up if you keep practicing. You and Daddy could even made paintings together some day."

"Yeah!" Russia grinned and pulled the picture close to his chest. "I can't wait! Can I put this on the fridge? Can I?"

Soviet chuckled and nuzzled Russia's cheek. "Of course you can."

Russia giggled and nuzzled his father back. "Where are die magnete at? I wanna put it up right now!"

Soviet hummed and tapped his chin, narrowing his eyes in thought. "Possibly in the drawer next to the fridge. If not, you can ask your daddy."

"Okay!" Russia skittered out of the room and lightly tapped his knuckles in rapid succession against the door labeled 'Kunstraum'. "Daddy?"

"Ja, mein Sohn?" Nazi called from inside the room.

"Do you know where die magnete are?"

"In the drawer by the fridge. They're in a little Blechdose at the back. You can have your dada help you reach them."

"Okay."

He skipped back down into the kitchen and reached up to grab the handle of the drawer. Instead of pulling and leaning back - which caused the other drawer to break and got him in trouble - on it, he walked the drawer backwards until it opened as far as it could go. He then walked over to the side of it and reached in as far as he could. Just inside, he felt a cold and smooth metal surface of a lid. He grinned and pulled out the metal box, then held it with both his hands. He opened the little box, then grabbed the tiny coin magnet with a star in the middle. He set the open box on the counter and put the magnet on the paper, then stuck it to the fridge. He stepped back and rested his hands on his hips with a grin.

Soviet kneeled down next to him and rested his hands on his shoulders. "You did good, Россия. I'm proud of you."

Russia grinned and stared up at the picture. "Yeah. I did good."

A shrieking cry came from another part of the house.

Soviet patted Russia's shoulder and stood up. "Looks like your sister is awake. Would you like to help me make обе́д?"

"Okay." Russia climbed onto one of the island chairs. "What can I make?"

"Let's find out." Soviet ruffled his hair before walking down into the house, and a moment later, the crying got louder.

Russia watched as his Dada came back in with his tiny sister on his hip, humming and bouncing her to calm her down. Eventually, she calmed down to sniffling gasps while Dada pulled open the pantry door and gestured Russia over.

"Come here, Россия. Help me decide what to make." He leaned down with a grin. "Let's make something for Daddy too," he muttered.

"Can we make sweets?"

He hushed him and held a finger to his lips. "Daddy's not supposed to know."

Soviet and Russia broke into giggles, which Belarus joined in on a few seconds later.

"Alright, let me make some food for your sister. Then we can make some обе́д." Soviet then stood up and set Belarus down in her little eating chair before walking to the pantry and opening it, grabbing the bread, then some strawberry jam.

"Okay." Russia scoured through the pantry with a grin, grabbing some flour from the bottom shelf, then the sugars, and so on.

...

Soviet looked up from his steering wheel when he heard the passenger door open up, then a small child sniffle and climb in. He saw Russia setting down his bag on the floor, his face red and stained with tears.

"Россия, are you alright?" He reached out and ran a hand through his hair, which Russia leaned into with more sniffles.

"Some kids were being mean to me. They called me mean names." He looked up at Soviet with pleading blue eyes. "I don't wanna go to school tomorrow."

Soviet hushed him and pulled him into his lap, hugging him close and playing with his hair to help him calm down. "I'm so sorry, Россия. I wish I could help."

"Why don't they like me? I didn't do anything."

"I know you didn't. It's not your fault." He nuzzled his cheek. "Would you like to make some chocolate with Dad when we get home?"

He wiped his eyes with the back of his hands and nodded, sniffling and taking hiccuping breaths. "O- Kay."

He smiled and nuzzled his nose. "You are strong, Россия. You are strong like your Dad and Dada. You will be one of the biggest and strongest of them all."

"Okay."

"That's my boy. Now come on." He patted Russia's back. "Gimme a handsome smile."

He grinned at Soviet and showed off his teeth, his watery eyes now more positive.

"There you go." He hugged Russia one more time before setting him back down in the passenger seat. "Do you wanna go home?"

Russia nodded and plugged in his seatbelt, playing with the strap while Soviet drove back toward the house.

...

Soviet let his bag fall to the floor next to the front door as he walked further inside, a heavy sigh escaping him as he dragged his feet into his room, face planting onto the bed with a low groan, which became muffled from the layers of pillows and bedding he had pressed against his face. He heard the bed creak next to him, followed by a dip in the mattress before he felt something small lay across his back with a sweet little giggle.

"Are you making doggy sounds?"

Soviet couldn't help the smile that spread across his face.

"I can make them too. 'Rrrrrr.' See?" He felt a small hand pat against the back of his head.

Another body slammed down on his back as well, this one smaller than the first. "I can make kitty cat sounds! 'Mrow. Meow mrow.'"

"No, doggies are better."

"Birdie!" A third body crawled onto his back. "Birdie!"

The other two giggled and patted his back. "Come on, Dada, wake up!"

"Dada!"

He chuckled and rested his chin on his arm, looking up as two tiny faces squished against his, then a third appeared in front of him. They all grinned at him, giggling and snuggling close to him.

"Hi, Dada!"

He grinned and nuzzled them back, slowly sitting up and pulling them into his lap. "Hello, my troublemakers. How are you?"

"We missed you." Russia pouted and crossed his arms. "Why did you leave?"

"Yeah," Ukraine whined, hugging Soviet's arm close to his chest. "You left."

"Gone!" Belarus yelled out, laying against Soviet's chest.

"I'm sorry, you three," he muttered, kissing their foreheads before squeezing them close once more. "I had to work. Did you at least have fun with Daddy?"

"Uh huh." Russia squeezed close to Soviet, followed by Ukraine and Belarus, who played with a little lollipop toy, chewing it in her mouth and flinging it around.

"Good." He wrapped the blanket around them and snuggled them close. "Are you sad Daddy isn't here anymore?"

He felt arms wrap around him from behind, pulling him back into someone else's chest. "No need when he's right here."

Soviet looked up as the three in his hold giggled, finding Nazi with a bright grin above him.

"Welcome home."

"I thought you-"

Nazi shook his head, pressing a kiss to his lips to cut him off. "Rescheduled."

Soviet sighed and rested his head on Nazi's shoulder, who settled down next to him on the bed and took hold of his free hand.

"Daddy, Daddy, did we do good? Did we trick Dada?"

"This was a setup?" Soviet arched a brow over at Nazi, who simply shrugged with a grin.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Soviet shook his head and cuddled their children close. "Past their bedtimes no less."

"Daddy said we could!"

"Da!"

Soviet sighed. "Alright then, off to bed with all three of you."

"Awwwww," they whined.

"One bedtime story?"

"One song?"

"Song! Stowy!"

Soviet looked over at Nazi, who simply looked back. Soviet finally gave in, looking down at the three in his hold.

"What kind of story and song do you want?"

His children cheered before breaking off into screaming answers.

"Cat! Cat!"

"Fire!"

"Comb!"

Soviet looked over to Nazi once more, then turned on the radio. "Song first?"

Nazi grinned, clearing his throat and settling himself. "Only if you dance with me."

He flipped on the radio, his cheeks dusting a light pink. "Fine."

The radio clicked on, and a guitar began to play softly in the background. Nazi linked his hands together, slightly swaying to the beat.

"I don't want to set the fire. I just want to start a flame in your heart. In my heart I have but one desire. And that one is you. No other will do."

Soviet hummed in the background, his smile unable to remove itself from his face.

"I've lost all ambition of worldly acclaim. I just want to be the one you love. And with your admission that you feel the same, I'll have reached the goal I'm dreaming of, believe me. I don't want to set the world on fire. I just want to start a flame in your heart."

Nazi looked over to Soviet as he began to hum instead. "I don't wanna set the world on fire, honey. I love you too much. I just wanna start a great big flame down in your heart. You see, way down inside of me, darlin', I only have one desire. And that one desire is you. And I know nobody else ain't gonna do it."

He laid his head on Nazi's shoulder, then the two starting singing together. "I've lost all ambition of worldly acclaim. I just wanna be the one you love. And with your admission that you feel the same..."

Soviet began to hum again as Nazi took over. "I'll have reached the goal I'm dreaming of, believe me. I don't want to set the world on fire. I just want to start a flame in your heart."

When Nazi stopped singing, they looked down to see three sleeping children, to which Soviet turned off the radio and chuckled.

"So much for a bedtime story."

"You knew they wouldn't last long." Nazi pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. "Does it feel nice to be home again?"

Soviet rested his head on Nazi's shoulder and nodded. "It's nice to finally be with all of you again."

"It's nice to be here with you." He ran a hand through Soviet's hair. "Wanna help me take them to bed?" Nazi muttered, pressing soft kisses all across Soviet's face.

A quiet hum escaping him as he let his eyes close, giving Nazi more access. Nazi grinned and tilted his head up before catching Soviet in a slow, passionate kiss, a low sound from the back of his throat resonating against Soviet's lips. Soviet relaxed against Nazi in turn with a hand sliding up the back of Nazi's neck and tangling his fingers in his hair. Nazi let his hands trace down to wrap around Soviet in turn, angling his head and pressing closer, Soviet following his lead.

All too soon, Nazi pulled away and rested his forehead against Soviet's with a soft panting coming from both of them. "Let's... let's go put the kids to bed. I've missed you, and I want to spend the night with you."

Soviet played with Nazi's hair as he held the children close to his chest, murmuring to Nazi about how he'd meet him back in a minute before reluctantly pulling away. He made his way down the hallway and into the first bedroom, where he set tiny Belarus into her crib with a soft kiss placed on her forehead and a nightlight turned on in the corner. Then, he palmed open Ukraine's room next to Belarus', placing him down on his bed and kissing his forehead while he left on a soft music in the background. Finally, he made his way across the hallway and into Russia's room and put down Russia, kissing his forehead as well before flicking on the fan and letting the door click shut. He walked back to his and Nazi's room, collapsing to the bed as all the weight of the past few months crashed down on him.

He felt Nazi straddle his lower back before hands pressed into his back, the pressure and tension he felt and didn't even know he had easing away with a groan. He let his eyes close, succumbing to Nazi's hands to finally let his body rest.

"How are you feeling?" Nazi muttered into his ear, to which he only responded with a groan. "Do you want me to let you get undressed?"

Soviet let his arms flop to the sides of his head and pushed himself up, Nazi sliding off and laying next to him on the bed as he pulled off his tan trench coat, boots, shirt, socks, and finally, his pants, then face planting himself down on the bed again. Nazi chuckled and sat up next to him, the sound of rustling clothes and cloth landing on the floor sounding above him before he felt Nazi straddle his back again.

"You have some new bruises. Did you get into a fight, or did you fall?" Nazi pushed his fingers into Soviet's back again, working out the tension there with ease.

He only let out a low groan in response, pressing his face further into the pillows.

"Who'd you get in a fight with?" Nazi smoothed his hands over his skin and slid his hands down lower, pressing his hands into his mid back. "Was it UK?"

Soviet offered a slow nod.

Nazi hummed and kissed the back of Soviet's neck. "At least you came out of it."

He sat back up and pushed his thumbs into Soviet's lower back, causing another strained groan to escape his throat. He heard Nazi chuckle, then placed another few soft kisses on his shoulder.

"When's the last time we were together like this?" Nazi traced along one of the jagged, uniform scars criss crossing Soviet's back. "Without anyone but us?"

Soviet only shook his head, digging his fingers into the bed when Nazi pressed the heels of his hands between Soviet's shoulder blades. "I d _o_ n't kn _ow_."

Nazi hummed and brushed his fingers up and down Soviet's back with another soft kiss to his spine. "Would you like to do something else as well? I know you're overwhelmingly stressed." He brushed his hand along Soviet's side - a well known weak spot to Nazi. "I want to help you, and while we're here together in a time of minimal tension, I want to help you. I want to be intimate with you again."

Soviet shivered under the touch. "How many days do you... do you have?"

Nazi hesitated a moment. "I'm not sure. I'm hoping another four days."

"Worst case scenario?"

"Two days."

Soviet let out a defeated sigh, his head burying itself into his arms. "... I can't keep doing this, солнышка."

Nazi pressed another soft kiss to the back of Soviet's neck. "I know, Bärchen. I'm hurting too." He laid down against Soviet's back, tracing small patterns along his marred and mangled skin. "I want to be with you again."

Soviet turned around under him, pressing him close and curling around him. «Я... Я скучаю по тебе.»

"Ich vermisse Dich auch." Nazi cuddled as close as he could to him, burying his face into his chest and revelling in the welcoming warmth and familiar smell.

The two stayed in silence. Soviet ran one of his hands through Nazi's hair and kept him close by holding his other arm secure on his back and clutching at his shoulder. Nazi gripped at Soviet's back in turn while trying his best to squish as close as possible by pressing his face into his chest. Some time within the embrace, Nazi felt something drip onto his head, just as Soviet felt something wet on his chest.

"Don't let me go," Nazi whispered.

"Never."


	4. Confrontation

Soviet watched at himself in the mirror as his body cracked and crumbled. How could this happen? How did he get to this? How did his reign, one of noble intentions, fall to pain, death, and suffering? Communism never meant to starve the weak, or deny the defectors, or keep the government above everyone. Where had he gone wrong?

He jerked and convulsed. His violent coughing forced blood from his lungs and splattered it across the counter and crawl down his once expertly cleaned tan trench coat. When had his plan for societal equality failed? He only ever wanted all his citizens to live in peace, where everyone could have anything,  _share_  everything. When had those goals changed? When had Soviet, the once optimistic savior of the East, become a madman?

He felt shadows upon his back. He felt the hands of the many who suffered by his hand. He saw the face of his most infamous ruler face him within the mirror, cigar within his hand, and a grin splitting his face, taunting him. The one who turned Communism to a bloodthirsty monster. The madman who destroyed his beloved citizens, starved them,  _killed_  them. The one who turned  _him_  into a greedy, power-hungry maniac. The one who turned him into the embodiment of Satan himself.

He hunched over and hacked up untold volumes of blood, his body shaking from the exertion of energy. The once powerful, promising Soviet Union now crumbled in front of a mirror, unable to pull himself together despite how much he tried to reform what the madman had warped in his once beautiful country. America, his life long enemy, now had him pinned. He now crumbled, and America celebrated his victory. A victory of the elite, of the accepting of poverty, and of the black-hearted. His once noble cause now became an infamous story of genocide, a model of suffering, and a confirmation that humans can never handle the responsibility of harmony.

He pressed his head against the mirror as he felt his body begin to go numb, starting from his fingers and toes, then crawling its way up to his core. He stared at himself once again with tarnished gold eyes, a single trail of bright red dripping from his lip. He couldn't help but scoff and chuckle at himself. He looked like a mess. He never thought he could look so broken down and tired.

He slowly picked up his head when he heard a knock at the door to find his beautiful children, each and every one, with varying degrees of shock, disgust, and even gratefulness. He simply turned away - whether from exhaustion or shame, he didn't know - and closed his eyes as that numbness clawed up his wrists and ankles. He heard his children call for him, beg him for answers, demand apologies for what he did to them as he fell apart. How could he let it get this bad? How could he put them through so much suffering for only a grasp for just a single drop more of power? How could he ruin their lives so thoroughly without a single care in the world about their wishes?

He could not give any of them an answer. He himself didn't know why he let the greed of his leaders get the better of him. Why he let his leaders tempt him away from his original intent. He failed his children. He failed his people.

He felt a hand on his shoulder, then saw the face of his eldest, his bright ocean blue eyes unsure of what to do. He heard his son ask what to do, but he couldn't find it in him to answer. He only managed to take hold of his eldest son's face with his clean hand and give him a smile, patting his cheek.

"Restore the faith of our people." He looked over to the rest of his children. His beautiful, strong children. "All of you. Make me proud. Right the wrongs I committed."

Russia squeezed close and buried his face in his shoulder. "Father, please."

"It'll be alright, little one." He patted his back, his body lurching as coughs wracked his body once more. His legs and arms became numb by this point, unable to feel anything. "Go on and do better than I did. I trust you."

"No, no, Father, please." Russia gripped his trench coat, his terrified blue eyes staring desperately into tarnished gold. "Don't leave us alone. Don't leave  _me_  alone. Please."

He pulled Russia into a hug, holding him close and playing with his hair. "I'm sorry, little one. I'm sorry I couldn't provide more for you. I'm sorry I couldn't do more for you. All of you." He gave Russia a broken smile as he felt his core begin to grow cold. "Keep your brothers and sisters safe. Can you do that for me?"

Russia clutched at his wrists, tears threatening to fall. "I will. I will, Father. I promise."

He gave one last weak smile and rested his forehead against Russia's. "Thank you."

The last thing he heard before he disappeared was Russia's small voice uttering one last 'I love you,' followed by the voices of the rest of his children muttering their last goodbyes.

...

Nazi scrambled to take up his weaponry and pull his troops out of Moscow. He slammed his fist on the table with a screaming stream of curses. Humans never saw any logic in their actions. If the leader had just stayed with the invasion in the summer, they could have won! Hell, the mess could have been avoided entirely if the damn human saw that keeping Soviet out of the war could help them  _win_ it! If he had just waited longer, they could have had a chance. No matter, he could turn the tides back. He could turn it back with Stalingrad and Caucasus. All he needed to do-

"A bit  _late_  for that, don't you think?"

Nazi snapped his head behind him to find Soviet, hands in his pockets, cigar bitten between his teeth and staring at the other side of the threshold from which he leaned against, one boot propped against it. Flaming gold eyes burned dangerously into freezing scarlet for a few agonizing seconds, then a slow, unsettling chuckle sounded from the throat of the once optimistic, equality-seeking leader. Nazi watched as his lips curled and twisted into a sickening grin, taking a drag of his cigar, much to his disgust and horror.

"You know, Nazi..." he reached up and took hold of his cigar, letting the black smoke escape into the air as he angled his head backward, "I'm quite disappointed in you. I thought you said you had military intuition." He let another unnatural chuckle escape him. "It looks as though I overestimated you." He stood up to his full height the moment he stepped into the room, each click of his boots against the floor causing a heart attack for the Axis. "To think I trusted you with our pact."

He stopped right in front of Nazi's desk, towering over the power-drunk country below him. He took another puff of his cigar, letting the smoke seep from his lips and swirl into the air around him. He leaned down over the smaller, his face centimeters from Nazi's, and never breaking eye contact as he pressed the butt of his cigar into the wood of the desk, a painful hissing emanating from it between the two powers, neither flinching, nor daring to glance away, even for just a second.

"If it's a war you want, then it's a war you're gonna get." He grinned at the smaller country, an almost maniacal glint in those flaming gold eyes, fear flashing in the smaller's for just a moment. "Welcome to the  _real world_."

"I am not scared of you," Nazi snapped, his hands pinned behind his back as his freezing scarlet eyes narrowed.

"Oh, you will be." Soviet stood up and turned heel, the clicks of his heels following after him as he walked out the door. "You will be."

...If you get offended over religious portrayals/discrimination, this next one is not for you...

Utah embodied the perfect image of a righteous man. He follows the word of his church to the letter. He wore his ring upon his fingers, and his garments beneath his clothes. He took pride in his religion, as he should. His religion came before anything else in his domain, and no one person could change that. He stared out into his state, a grin brightening from across his face, his brown and gold eyes glistening with pride. His state nearly reached its peak. A kingdom within the desert. The Kingdom of Deseret.

He felt his security dip when he remembered a small, teeny, tiny,  _little_  detail about his state. A his state could not be perfect with temptation. His state could not hold its integrity if it fell to temptation.  _He_  could not fall to temptation. The detail about the  _misfits_  of his states.

He threw open his closet door and slammed in the small, secret door behind the suit clothes. He stared up into the darkness toward the spotlight upon the multi-colored  _eyesore_  of a flag. He stepped into the temple of a room, his steps echoing forever into the blackness in every direction, and stopped just under from where the flag hung.

"Dear Heavenly Father, we're grateful for this blessed day, and for this land upon which we can live under thy name." He pushed open the box and plucked out a match. "We come seeking guidance from thee. We ask thee, Heavenly Father, for advice upon how we can remove the sinners from our state. We ask thee for advice that thou can bestow upon us over our temptations."

He swiped the match head across the edge of the box and held the flickering flame to his face, the sight igniting a spark within his chest.

"We ask thee to help guide us to a life without sin. What should we do to follow your path and remove the temptations of the one we unjustly lust after?"

He heard a whisper within his ear, a voice murmuring in his head.  _"How dare you lust upon someone below you."_

"It's not my fault, Heavenly Father, please! Satan has infiltrated my state, and I cannot stand by as America falls to sin as well!" He fell to his knees, hands clasped together and staring desperately into the spotlight. "I cannot succumb to the succubus as America has. I beg of you, please, I am not at fault! It is in your plan, you had made Satan more powerful than the will of any man! I will follow your every word, I just ask that you guide me through this trying time!"

_"You cannot become my perfect state unless you rid yourself of the sinners."_

"I ask for your guidance! How do I receive your protections? How do I become the perfect state?"

_"You must go out and tell your people, your church, that you shall not accept the sinners. You must not accept anyone connected to the sinners, be they through bloodline, or marriage."_

"Yes, Heavenly Father, yes!" He jumped to his feet and threw his hands into the air. "I shall heed thy word! The sinners shall not be accepted." He reached up and ripped the flag from its place above him, the disgusting mix of colors.

_"You must deny them in church, but not in law, for in law shall make America suspicious of you. You must destroy them and their social standing, for that is the most vital way to make them repent."_

"Yes, Heavenly Father! I shall destroy them! I shall destroy them all!" He held the match to the corner of the flag within his hand, watching as the ugly colors curled and smoldered into a white ash upon the ground. A sign of repentance, surely. He could make them repent. He could make them  _all_  repent.

He closed his eyes and kneeled upon the floor, pressing his face into the cool floor to calm his beating heart. He felt the Holy Spirit within him, guiding him through these most trying times. He could hear the Holy Spirit calling to him, beckoning him to continue on his journey to satisfy his Heavenly Father. He must expel the sinners from His church, ban them from His church, and keep their children away until they turn eighteen. He must refuse to bless or baptize those children.

"In the name of Jesus Christ, amen."

...

"You had plenty money, 1922."

Nevada laid herself down against the piano which Oregon played, crooning into the microphone while the double string bass and the piano played in the background of the  _mildly_  illegal bar New York and Illinois hosted for the States. Whistles and howls called out to her as she sung while she stepped across the stage, only clad in high heel boots, and a revealing, shocking black dress.

"I was thinking of setting up the baseball game." New York swirled his wine as he spoke with Illinois, both watching Nevada sweep the room off its feet.

Illinois snorted and leaned back. "Are you certain? It could lead to some nasty trouble if we do."

Nevada made her way to New York through the crowd, approaching slowly with the microphone and a hypnotizing gaze. He simply stared back at her, smirking into his glass.

"I'm certain."

Nevada settled herself in New York's lap, her voice humming into his ear while she slid her hand down to take hold of his tie. New York pulled her closer in response, nosing along her shoulder and neck.

"And what is my little star doing, hm?"

"Making the audience jealous." She straddled his hips and gripped at his suit jacket. "As I know you love to do."

New York made a low sound in the back of his throat and nibbled on her ear, hands sliding to her waist and placing so he made sure  _everyone_  could see. "You know me so well, my little star." He brushed the back of his fingers along the exposed skin around her sides, causing her to shiver and slide her hands beneath his shirt.

"Unfair of you to use that when I have no advantage against you."

He grinned and mouthed along her exposed neck, revelling in the envious glares and the embarrassed blushes the more he advanced. "You know I just love an unfair game. Especially when  _I'm_  winning."

"Is that why you're so good at poker?"

He chuckled and squeezed her hips. "Exactly why, my little star. Maybe I'll teach you my secrets one day."

"I'm sure you will." She danced off his lap and flitted her fingers while retreating to the bar at the side. "Until we meet again, rich boy."

"I don't doubt we will, my little star."

He reached into his coat pocket and plucked out a cigar and a lighter, flicking the lighter against the end of his cigar and puffing it before clicking the lighter closed and tapping it back into place. He took a deep drag of the blackening smoke, letting it hiss between his teeth as he watched the others attending the party. Most of the southern states refused to join - what a surprise - as well as Utah, undoubtedly tending to his Mormon business, whatever that was. He just assumed it had to deal with his multiple partners throughout the decades, though he could never be truly sure.

He heard the front door bang open, then figures clad in heavy police uniform aimed their many guns into the facility, screaming "NYPD, PUT YOUR HANDS IN THE AIR!"

He sighed and shook his head as the men and women around him the true humans, screamed and tried their best to escape police scrutiny, only for every single one to get forced into the police cars one way or another in the end. He watched them struggle and scream, puffing his cigar and tapping the end into an ash tray with an eerie nonchalance. He could just create another party spot, he supposed. Perhaps they could set up shop in another city in America and meet there from now on.

"We said get down on the ground and put your hands in the air!"

New York arched a brow up at the policeman next to him, taking care to puff his cigar and blow it directly into the man's face. "I'm sorry, but I believe you've got the wrong man."

The policeman's eyes watered and he looked as though he struggled not to cough. "Get down now!"

New York chuckled and stood up, brushing himself off. "Of course, officer. I wouldn't dream of resisting you." He held up his hands, cigar still chewed between his teeth, despite getting thrown to the ground and cuffed before getting escorted to the vehicle.

Of course, just as they loaded him into the car, he easily slipped his way out just as they sped off into the distance, swirling the handcuffs around a single pointer finger with a chuckle. Too easy. His citizens would need to be a bit smarter than that to keep him down.

He puffed his cigar and leaned against a tree off the side of the road, his hands in his pockets and his eyes closed. He'd meet up with Nevada in a few moments. She could get out of a vehicle no problem, just a few more seconds and...

Two short whistles pierced through the quiet night air.

There she is.

He opened his eyes and blew a low whistle in return, and within a few moments, she stepped up to him from the forest, brushing her fingers over his suit and pulling him down.

"You almost got us caught again, New York."

He chuckled and slid his hands along her lower back. "We can handle them."

"Not if America catches wind." She kissed along his jaw. "You know he just  _hates_  that we leave him alone in his want to go sober."

"Why bother with him?" He pinned her against the tree and nibbled on her neck while his nails drew light lines of red down her sides. "We can have our fun with  _or_  without him."

Nevada hummed and dragged her finger down his chest, pulling his shirt down with it. "I suppose you're right."

"Right about what, exactly?"

Nevada jolted and whipped around to find Massachusetts standing there, hands on her hips, and a scolding look in her piercing marigold and snow eyes.

"Didn't America tell you  _not_  to drink? You do realize it's a  _federal law_ , don't you? Do you two not realize that drinking is the-"

"Reason that violence happens, we know." New York rested his hands on Nevada's shoulders. "But, we all know it's really to force America to get sober."

Nevada hummed and laid back against New York. "Besides, hon, you can't tell us you don't miss the taste."

"I don't. In fact, I quite prefer the taste of soda." She stood up straighter and brushed off her pants.

New York shook his head and patted Massachusetts' shoulder. "You must lead a very uneventful life."

She scoffed and shook her head. "What do you think America will say if he found out about this? Hm?"

New York shrugged and began walking, puffing his cigarette with his hands rested in his pockets. "We'll burn that bridge when we get to it."

"Oh really?"

New York froze, biting down on his cigar and turning to the voice, finding America standing there, fedora covering his eyes in shadow like always, and hands stuffed into his black tail suit  pants pocket.

"Why don't we burn it  _now_ , then?"

New York sighed and shook his head. "How unfortunate. And here I thought we could have a nice chat."

"Maybe after you explain to me just what you mean to do with all this moonshine and imported wine." He stood over New York with an unreadable expression. "But I wouldn't want to  _inconvenience_  your little parties because of a little law that, oh I don't know, happens to be an amendment."

"Much appreciated." He patted America's chest. "Thanks for the chat, but I have to run. You know,  _state business_  and all that." He took hold of Nevada and pulled him to his side, taking her out to the custom-built Duisenberg II.

"New York, I can't keep doing this with you."

"Then don't. You have your business, and I have mine. Let's just leave it at that."

Without another word, he hopped into the driver's seat and set Nevada on his lap, kicking the car into gear and speeding off.


	5. Anxious German Boi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Might write a second part where Poland shows up. I've got an idea for it. Not too sure if I should though yet. Could be...  
> Interesting.

Germany hesitated in front of the door, the navy blue compass flag waving slightly. He pulled and tugged at his gloves, staring up at the door. It took him nearly five minutes to finally open the door, pushing it in with a stone cold expression and tugging at his gloves. He curled into his jacket, layers upon layers of clothes covering him, from long sleeved shirts - yes,  _shirts_  - to a suit jacket to finish it all off. He looked up at the conference door, voices of all kinds on the other side. It took him just a few more long moments before he finally mustered the courage to push open the door. On the other side, people shouted and pointed and growled, everyone freaking out over the biggest news that hit since the creation of the Warsaw Pact not two years earlier.

"Soviet sent a bloody satellite to space!"

"What can we do?"

"He's spying on us!"

"What can we do when he's caught us in our own backyard!?"

"Maybe don't go around trying to invoke nuclear warfare then!"

"Don't you dare insinuate the Egyptian conflict-"

"I will insinuate whatever the hell I  _want_ because the both of  _you_ decided with Israel the-"

Germany let go of the door handle and let the door close behind him, and the blunt sound somehow cut through the argument and silenced everyone already in the room. Every single face turned to stare at him, a range of expressions on each one as they all watched him make his slow, awkward way to his seat. He settled down in his seat at the large round table, pulling and tugging the gloves and doing his damndest not to freak out. He could hear them whispering, feel them staring. The wanted  _nothing_ to do with him. They knew. They  _knew_  what happened. They all crowded so close, practically touching him and-

"Huh."

Germany snapped up his head, frantically looking around from behind his square glasses. His eyes landed on America, who had sunglasses over his eyes and a black leather bombers jacket. His arms crossed, he looked down at Germany with the most intrigued smirk on his face.

"You look much more tame than your brothers. I'm surprised we haven't met before."

Germany dug his fingers into his gloves, carefully schooling his expression to one of neutrality despite his internal panic. They knew. He could see it. They all knew what happened. They all knew what-

"America my boy, don't act so foolish," UK hissed next to him before displaying a smile.

That smile, while it most definitely meant to act as a reassuring one, did just the opposite, Germany clawed further into his gloves, his resolve beginning to crack as he watched them all stare at him. He could hear them, see them,  _feel them_. They all knew, and they called him here to finish him off. They called him here to remove the  _stain_.

America made a noise under his breath, leaning back and rubbing a hand down his face. "Look. First, we need to do restate just what the hell we're all doing here. Reaffirm just why we came together in the first place."

Germany's hands shook to the point of almost becoming noticeable to the ones next to him.

"So, Germany, what are you feeling about this?"

Germany pulled at his gloves, unaware that at one point, he stopped breathing. He almost didn't answer for a moment, in which America's smirk fell a bit. He knew. He knew. He was coaxing him to talk. Coaxing him to admit it.

"Germany?"

His hands began to shake, all sensation within them now lost as his vision unfocused. They knew what happened. He couldn't go on like this. They finally called him to finish him off. His head hurt. They came to call of any hope of him escaping him. He felt an impending doom, like his death stood just behind him. They reached out with sick grins on their faces. His vision blurred. They knew. They knew and-

Germany made a sound, lifting his head up and massaging his temple. What...?

He slowly blinked his eyes open, looking at the fourteen other faces which all stared at him, wide-eyed, surrounding a couch he now laid on, varying degrees of concern and even horror etched onto their faces.

"Germany, are you alright?" Canada kneeled next to him on the floor, black medical bag rested next to him.

He couldn't bring himself to answer, too distracted from the crowding faces around him. He pressed himself against the leg of the couch behind him, hands digging into his white leather gloves. Canada must have noticed, because he motioned everyone to go away, which they all gave mild protest to - mostly America - before all reluctantly walking out one by one, soon leaving the room quiet and empty.

"You can talk now, Germany. The others are gone." Canada grabbed his stethoscope from the bag and plugged them into his ears. "Is it alright if I listen to your heart? I want to make sure you don't have anything wrong with your heart."

Germany swallowed hard, fingers digging further into his palms as he violently shook his head. "No."

"Please, Germany. I want to make sure you aren't having other problems. Serious problems." He held up his hands. "No other intentions, just to check up on you."

Germany glanced to the side, arms locked in his lap. "No."

"The stethoscope won't hurt you." He held out the chest piece, then took down the headset from his ears, pulling out a wipe and cleaning them off before holding them out as well with a reassuring smile. "Try it."

Germany stared down at the object in the other's hand, taking a moment to calm himself before slowly reaching out and taking it from him. He spared a glance at Canada, who still had a patient smile on his face, before taking hold of the two long rods and pulling them apart so he could rest the ear plugs in his ears. The world around him quieted to a dull, muffled sound in the far background. He then grabbed the two-part thing on the end of it.

"Would you like to try it on me?"

He hesitated a moment before holding up the bigger, flat part to Canada, who leaned down and pulled down his shirt a bit to give Germany some better access. He looked down at the flat part one more time before slowly, hesitantly, pressing it to the space which Canada had indicated, a loud shifting sound coming through when he started, and then came a dull, rhythmic thumping. The sound kept a slow beat, somehow slowing his own heart so they both beat in time. He took a moment to stay there, listening, watching, keeping his fingers as far as possible from Canada's skin. He stayed there, shoulders relaxing and hands releasing most of its tension, simply listening to the dull beat, everything else quieting to a soft mumble in the background.

He jolted and immediately tensing back up when Canada shifted a bit, snapping his head up to look at him. Canada still had those same bright eyes and soft smile, to which Germany finally pulled away the listening piece and took out the ear plugs.

"May I try it on you?"

Germany hesitated for much longer than he felt Canada thought necessary, holding the stethoscope in his hands as though it became some secret weapon. He looked and looked, holding it between both his hands before finally dropping them into Canada's, who gave another reassuring smile as he cleaned both the flat part and the ear buds. He put in the headset, holding the chest piece out.

"Could you please shift your collar a bit? Nothing too major, you can just do what I did." He smiled, trying his best to reassure the other. "Nothing more."

Germany swallowed hard, his mind firing off and sending him into a panicked haze. When he looked down at the little stethoscope, he tried to remind himself of the dull rhythmic sound. He almost felt himself say 'no' a third time, but somehow managed to get out his more rational response. He reached for his collars, taking one last, slow breath, before shakily pulling it down. Canada gave a bright smile in thanks, asking him to sit up straight before continuing.

Canada rested the diaphragm against Germany's chest, the heartbeat much too fast for a normal resting state. Other than that, however, he didn't hear anything abnormal, in which he gave an internal sigh of relief. He didn't hear any odd sounds, which meant he didn't have any heart problems. He took the diaphragm away a moment later, taking out his stethoscope and cleaning it off once more.

"Is... anything wrong?"

Canada kneeled down next to him, shaking his head. "No, Germany. Your heart is just fine. I have to ask, though. What is scaring you so much?"

Germany felt a cold knife rip through his heart, staring up at him and digging his fingers into his palms.

"Hey, hey, it's okay. You don't have to say anything." He gestured to the other side of the couch. "May I sit? I'll be on the opposite side of you so you can have your personal space."

He dug his fingers further into his palms, eyes wide as he looked at the other. He tried to remember the rhythm again as he answered. "Y... Yes."

Canada nodded and settled down on the opposite side of the three-seat couch, relaxing back against it. He then flipped on the TV on the small table in front of them, lapsing into a comfortable silence. Germany tried to do the same, rubbing at the back of his neck and watching the TV as well.

"Do you play hockey?"

Germany jolted and looked over, taking a moment to process just what he asked. "Uh... what?"

"Do you play hockey?" He repeated, turning his head toward him with a relaxed posture.

"N... No. I don't." He looked down at the floor, pulling and tugging at his gloves.

"I should totally show you hockey. I absolutely love playing and watching it." He grinned, snickering all of a sudden. "I tried to get America to join, and he immediately fell on his face. He chased me  _everywhere_  after that."

Germany let a small chuckle break through, imagining the intimidating, invincible superpower stumbling around on skates and falling on his face.

Soon enough, the two took on numerous conversations, talking and laughing with each other for hours. They talked and talked and talked, Germany almost completely forgetting anything around them. He didn't even attempt to touch him.

"Germany?"

"Yes?" He sat straight, now relaxed back into the couch as well.

"Would you be okay with me helping you? Help you with your anxieties?"

Germany swallowed, digging his fingers into his palms again. "I... I don't know."

"It'll just be like this. You can think of it as... as a get-together between friends. We can watch TV, tell stories, and even just sit with a drink and talk. Then, after we go out for fun, we can help you with your anxieties. How does that sound?"

He hesitated a few more moments before answering with a small "Yes please," staring down at the floor.

"Oh, great. How do you feel about next week?" He sat up, brushing his shirt off.

Germany hummed in response, looking over at the floor. "Alright."

"Great. We'll try next week, then." Canada smiled and stood up, turning off the TV before turning back to him. "Here, let's go tell the others you're okay. They're all worried about you."

Germany nodded, sitting up and getting to his feet. He didn't say much after that, following after Canada and letting him speak for him as they approached the others. As soon as Canada opened the door, the room on the other side suddenly quieted itself and people came rushing into the hallway.

"Germany!"

"Germany, are you alright?"

"Are you okay?"

"What happened?"

"Do you feel ill?"

Canada stood in front of German so the others couldn't reach him, holding up a hand and shaking his head. "He's alright, everyone. Let's just get back to the meeting."

The others hesitated, but did as told, and they carried on with all the rest of the meeting. Germany sat in his seat, Canada now settled on his side.

The next week, Canada came to meet up with Germany. The two simply watched some TV and talked, and then Canada began to segway the conversation.

"What is the first thing that comes to your mind when I ask you to take something from my hands? A cookie, or a pen, or a glass for example."

Germany flinched, pulling and digging at his gloved hands as he schooled a stoic expression. "Pain."

Canada nodded, still keeping his voice and posture as calm as possible. "What kind of pain? Pain that I would inflict on you?"

German gave a short nod in answer, digging his fingers into his palms as much as he could.

"What kind of pain would I inflict on you?"

He swallowed hard, staring down at the floor as he felt an uneasy feeling settle over him. "I-I don't know." He cleared his throat, his breathing lessening with every second that passed by.

"Now, what do you think if I set the pen down and ask you to take it?"

He dug his fingers further into his palms, trying to keep his attention on the conversation and not the overwhelming sense of dread. "I would take it."

"Would you like a minute to calm down?"

He nodded, his chest now halting its movements. The dread continued to build up, the voices in his ears getting louder and louder.

"Germany, breathe. You need to breathe." Canada shifted next to him, effectively taking his attention away from the voices. "Take a step away from the situation and focus on your breathing. Take a deep breath in," he inhaled, which Germany followed a few seconds later. "Now breathe out," he exhaled at the same pace, which Germany shakily copied. "Good. Let's try it again. Breathe in..."

The two continued the exercises until Germany relaxed back against the couch. Canada laced his own fingers together, a soft smile growing on his face.

"Would you like to continue? Or do you need a few more minutes?"

He swallowed and shook his head. "I'm alright."

"Alright. If you start feeling anxious again, feel free to tell me." He shifted again, Germany doing the same. "What tells you to wear so many layers of clothes?"

Germany looked down at the floor, then the couch, fidgeting and digging at his palms. "Protection. Stay away from pain."

"So, if I asked you to take off one shirt. Just one shirt. How would you feel?"

He bit his tongue, that same churning, black feeling crawling in his chest. "Less protection. More avenues for pain."

"How many layers of protection do you feel you need?"

He clawed at his gloved palms. "Six shirts, two socks, a sweater, a jacket, gloves, and shoes."

Canada tapped his chin in thought, humming quietly. "So, do you wear these clothes at all times?"

Germany shook his head, staring down at the cushions of the sofa. "Only when I'm not alone."

"What do you wear when you're by yourself? How much protection do you feel you need?"

He frowned in thought, trying to think back to when he had the house free of people. A few days ago, possibly. What did he wear? How much does he feel he needs? "I don't... know."

"Do you know if it's less or more than what you usually wear?"

"Less."

He hummed, unclasping his hands. "Why don't we try something. I want you to try wearing one less shirt in public for as long as possible. Try to push yourself a bit. It will be uncomfortable in the beginning, but hopefully, the feeling will ease itself when you do it more and more. If you start to feel like you will absolutely die without the shirt, you can put it on, but try to last as long as you can."

Germany tugged at his leather gloves, staring down at the floor. "I don't... I don't think I can."

"You can do it, Germany. It will take time, and sometimes it may seem really hard, but you can do it. You don't have to do it every time you're out, either. I just ask, between this week and next, you at least try one time you go out. Do it for as long as you can."

He took another deep, shaky breath, plastering a stoic expression on his face. "Alright. Alright, I will."

"Good. Would you like another drink before we leave?"

"Yes please."

Weeks turned to months. Canada came over to Germany's place every week, sometimes more than once, and the two tried their best to help Germany with his anxieties. At one point during one of the first month, Canada filled out a prescription for him, one of which didn't seem to work at all for the first five weeks, and the other somehow reducing his constant nightmares. The two grew closer with each session, as did Germany's confidence, though more just a smidge than a big boost. The now, the voices in his head forcing him to overthink every small detail unlatched themselves, only a few minor attacks now keeping him down. This, coupled with having someone to finally vent to, someone to help him with his problems, someone to work him through it.

Nearly twenty two months later, he could comfortably walk around with a white long sleeved shirt, a tie, white gloves, black slacks and socks, black shoes, and occasionally a suit jacket if he needed to class himself up. Canada could give him a quick tap on a shoulder if he really needed, and he allowed people to enter his house. America seemed extremely protective of him, especially when he flies in on one of his planes from his southern territory. He always struck up a conversation, laughing and smiling and rapidly sliding boxes into their designated areas with expert precision. UK and France occasionally did the same, though never as much as America.

He stood in front of the hangar doors with a bag slung over his shoulder, watching as the black plane touched down and stopped in front of him, the American flag newly updated with fifty bright stars from events just a month prior. America slid out of it not a moment later with a grin, hands held up and out to his sides.

"Germany! Good to see you! Come on, Canada and I're waiting for you." He gestured Germany over, who eagerly followed with a grin. "We're gonna have to stop in Belfast to refuel before we head out to New York City. How's that sound?"

"It would be a nice break before getting on a plane for ten more hours, so... yeah."

The two of them situated in their own seats and the plane took off into the sky, the landscape of Berlin slowly disappearing behind them the further they traveled westward. The two flew across the land for nearly five hours, soon landing in the gorgeous city of Belfast. Busses, people walking, beautiful buildings.

America took Germany out into the abnormally warm September air, sighing as he fixed his sunglasses and rested his hands in his pockets. "Nice, isn't it?"

Germany gave a slight nod. "Yeah. Warm. Not as... as stuffy."

"America, my boy!"

Germany and America looked over to see England walking up with a charming smile. America, however, started looking around for ways to avoid him, and when he found himself trapped, he sighed and accepted his defeat. England pulled him into a hug, which America begrudgingly accepted. He then pulled away and grabbed America's chin, angling his head from side to side.

"You look good. You're growing a nice bit of facial hair."

America only huffed, crossing his arms. "Sure, yeah."

"Your colours look much brighter as well. Is your economy still booming? You look rather dashing."

He cleared his throat and nodded over to Germany, who stood awkwardly off to the side. England then looked over, chuckling and shaking his head.

"My apologies, Germany." He went in for a handshake, but stopped himself midway.

"It's alright." He gave a small nod in answer.

England waved the two to follow him. "Come along. I wish to invite the both of you to a cup of tea. And don't think you can get out of this, my boy, I know you have nothing else to do."

America closed his mouth without a sound leaving his throat, a silent sigh escaping him as he walked after England. Germany held in a snicker, choosing to do the same with his hands stuffed into his pockets.

England gestured them to follow him into a house on the edge of Belfast, not too far from the airport. They all sat outside around a table, teacups set down in front of them alongside some biscuits on a plate. America called them cookies to get under England's skin, many many times.

"These cookies aren't very sweet."

"Biscuits, my boy. Biscuits."

Germany nibbled on his own cookie-biscuit, content to stay silent and listen to the other two bicker and drift off into his own thoughts. He held the teacup with both hands, two fingers rested under the handle as his hand wrapped around it and thumbs pointed upward. He occasionally took a sip of the hot, dark liquid, not exactly enjoying his experience, but tolerating it.

"Germany, ol' chap. What's on your mind?"

Germany blinked and looked up at England, whose eyes crinkled in the corners with smile lines stretching as he grinned.

"You look like you got a scheme brewing in that head of yours."

He simply shook his head, taking another short sip. "No. Just zoning out."

"Ah, I see. Are you excited to visit the New World? Very interesting place." He poured himself a cup of tea.

"I believe so." Germany set down his own cup, resting his chin on the backs of his propped up hands.

The stay over didn't last very long, mostly since the plane refueled relatively quickly. England bid them farewell when they all reached the plane, watching them take off with his hands rested on his cane.

Germany put on his neutral expression as he stared out the window, pushing up his glasses. He settled into the leather seats, America downing a coke before setting it on the table with a sigh.

"Coke and coffee are so much better."

Germany shook his head, fighting off a smirk. "Sure, America."

"What, you don't believe me? Here." He slid another glass coke bottle across the table, the cap already off and sitting next to America's hand other. "Let me prove it to you. Just try it."

Germany shook his head, pushing it back to America. "I'm just fine. Besides, you need to last yourself the whole trip."

He shrugged, taking it back up. "Suit yourself." He took another swig, sighing as he rested his arms over the back of the leather seat. "Hope you're alright with eleven hours on a plane."

"I'll be just fine."

He chuckled, tipping the bottle back and taking down the rest of the bottle. "God, that's good."

Germany rested his chin on his propped up fist, staring into the distance.

About halfway through the flight, America clocked out, his hands rested behind his head as he laid across the seat. His breathing sounded surprisingly soft. Germany expected him to snore, but the snoring never came. Germany tried to accomplish a few different objectives with the abundance of time, such as looking over nuclear weapon schematics and documents finalizing the withdrawal of Soviet's Berlin ultimatum, trying his best not to react to Soviet's name. A few hours later, he finalized everything he needed to get done, and relaxed back, staring out at the now darkened sky. He looked down at his watch, an internal sigh escaping him. 23:13 Berlin time, meaning the flight still had three hours.

He flicked his eyes up as he heard America shift, watching him sigh as his sunglasses slipped down a bit from their usual place. He tried not to peek at his eyes, the temptation almost overwhelming. No one ever saw America's eyes besides England, and becoming the first to know enticed him to no end. Despite the soft whispers begging him to look, he instead looked away and out the window, a soft sigh escaping him.

Germany must have zoned out, because he suddenly heard America shift again and groan. Germany turned around, watching America stretch and scratch his jaw with his sunglasses put back in place. He then relaxed with a sigh, looking out his own window.

"How much time passed?"

Germany leaned back with a looking down at his watch, which now read 23:57. "I believe it's only been about two and a half hours."

He sat up straighter with a sigh and a roll of his shoulders. "Better than nothing."

They landed about two and a half more hours, they landed in a city lit up with lights, cars and busses and people walking and bright neon lights in every direction.

"Germany, welcome to New York City."

He grabbed his bag, staring out with wide eyes. He never imagined it to look so amazing. He even saw colored TVs within the airport they arrived at. He could barely contain his sense of awe, his hands tightening around the strap of his bag as though trying to somehow hold onto his surroundings.

"You have to be tired right now. You were up since four New York time." America gestured him to follow as he walked to a limo. "Let's go get you to rest."

Germany followed after him, climbing inside the vehicle to find another man with a blue suit, grinning at both of them.

"Glad to see you both here. Germany, such a pleasure to have you. New York at your service. I have both your rooms fixed up, America."

"Great." America took a coke from the cup holder, sighing at the taste before tipping his bottle toward Germany with a nod. "I'll lead you to it."

Germany simply nodded, staring out the window as people, buildings, and cars all flew by. They came to a stop in front of an expensive looking hotel, New York hopping out to hold open the door with a grin. "Your hotel."

Germany slid out onto the ground with his bag slung over his shoulder, fixing his glasses as he stared up at the hotel, then at his surroundings. He stood just beyond the middle of Time Square, within walking distance of the very middle. Cinemas, Coca-Cola, posters, cigarettes, Chevrolet, neon lights. And damn, was it  _loud_.

"Now I see why America seems to yell everywhere," he muttered, shoving his hands into his pockets.

"Well," America started, gesturing Germany to follow, "come on. I'm sure you just want some time to yourself, don't you?"

Germany gave a small nod and walked after him. Germany ended up falling almost immediately after crashing on his bed after preparing himself, which didn't at all surprise him after he took his medication and finally relaxed after an entire day of travelling.

The next morning, Canada somehow appeared in the hotel, grinning as he walked around. The second he spotted Germany, he immediately made his way over.

"How was your trip, Germany?"

"It was fine." He adjusted his glasses and smiled. "So. How does coffee sound?"

"Great." Canada walked him out into Time Square and down the sidewalk into a different direction. "Oh, America won't be joining us tonight for dinner, by the way. He has an important meeting with someone."

He nodded and pulled at his gloves. "What kind of meeting?"

Canada frowned in thought. "I don't really know. It's a Saturday, so he shouldn't be having a meeting." He shrugged. "I suppose it's something that only happens here. Whatever floats his boat, I guess."

Germany shrugged. "More food for us."

Canada laughed and palmed open the door to the coffee shop when he made it down the stairs. "Less to pay for, too."

Germany chuckled and settled into the seat in front of Canada while pushing up his glasses so to keep them from falling off. "No argument there."

"Hello, welcome to Gaslight Cafe, what can I getch'y'all?"

Germany flinched and jumped back at the sudden voice, looking up at the woman in a high-waisted dress and a cutesy little smile.

Canada smiled and leaned forward to answer her. "We're not sure yet."

She nodded and fixed her hair. "A'ight. Flag me on down if y'all need anythang." She flittered her fingers. "Oh, the name's Marie by the way, sugar." She winked at Germany and walked away, Germany looking as though World War II repeated all over again as he clutched at his chest.

"What was  _that_?"

"Don't worry about it. American servers try to help you with  _everything_." Canada leaned back and laced his fingers together. "It's kind of overwhelming at first, but you get used to it."

" _'Kind of'_?"

Canada snickered and patted the table in front of Germany. "You're fine, don't worry about it." He nodded toward the server. "She's kinda cute, no?"

Germany scoffed and cleaned off his glasses. "I don't rate people."

Canada held up his hands. "Hey, just saying." He held up his hand with a grin.

Germany frowned in question. "What in the hell are you doing?"

"Getting a coffee." He fluttered his lashes as his grin widened. "Nothing wrong with that, is there?"

Germany shook his head and looked away. "Whatever suits you, I suppose."

"You want one too?"

He waved him off. "Do what you feel."

"Hey again, sugar." Marie grinned at Canada, in which Canada gave a playful little wink back. "What can I getch'y'all?"

"Coffee. Two, please."

"Comin right up, sugar."

Canada watched as she retreated, then chuckled. "Definitely a Texas lady. Confidence and a smooth southern accent."

"Must you observe people like that? You don't even know if she's Texan."

"What's wrong with it?" Canada looked back over to Germany. "Come now, it's fine. No harm done."

Germany shook his head. "You Westerners confuse me so."

"Westerners, you say?"

" _Verdammt!_ " Germany yelped, America suddenly appearing from nowhere. "Yes, you Westerners!"

America chuckled and leaned back, his hands behind his head. "Sorry, Germany. Didn't mean to freak you out or anything."

Canada smacked his shoulder. "Be nice to him."

"What? I am! It was just a bit of fun!"

Canada rolled his eyes. "Yeah, America." He grinned as Marie set down two cups of coffee.

"One for the handsome man in the corner." She slid the cup to him, then turned to Germany. "And one for the sweetheart." She then set the cup in front of Germany. "Oh, who's your friend?" Marie looked back to America, who gave her an enthusiastic wave.

"My brother, actually." Canada grinned and draped his arm on America's shoulder.

"Older brother, of course." America flashed a charming smile of his own.

Germany shook his head and took up his coffee, tuning out the other two as they flirted relentlessly with the waitress. Westerners.

 


	6. Dirty Little Secret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about not updating the last two days. I've got a lot going on right now all of a sudden. I hope this busy spell ends soon.

A "Bad Side of Town" AU? Would this qualify as an AU? Eh, it does now...

"Father, there's something I need to ask you." Canada looked up at his father while sipping on his coffee.

"Yes, my son?" UK sipped on his tea while he read the newspaper, one leg crossed over the other.

"What did you do to convince mother to go out with you?"

He choked and coughed into his white gloved hand, his face brightening with embarrassment and lack of oxygen.

"Father?"

He held up his hand and took a moment to get a hold of himself. "I'm fine." He cleared his throat. "My apologies. Let me see..."

_Britain blew against the barrel of his gun and stepped over the bloody mess below him. He peeled off the plastic protecting his clothes and threw them to the floor next to it, boots clicking against the concrete the closer he got to his destination. Might as well make a... passing appearance at his favorite place to dance. He slid his hands against the straps of his suit jacket, pushing open the back door of the dimly lit bar and making his way into the changing room. He closed the door behind him, flicking on the mirror lights and settling himself into the seat. He smirked at himself in the mirror, swiping up the bright red lipstick and rubbing it over his lips. Let's see how many of the people who still owe him ended up back in the bar._

_And how many he can fool into following him backstage._

_He lined his eyes with expert ease. His smokey eyes brightened his dark blue eyes to a cobalt color, and his slight highlights upon his cheeks softened them considerably. His extended eyelashes emphasized his sleepy-eye look. The touch of blush along his chest and to his cheeks perked up his already effeminate body. As much as he could never admit it to the ones who the ones who worked under him, he absolutely adored dolling himself up. He loved that he could fool everyone around him with just a few simple strokes of a brush._

_He hung up the pieces of his suit and walked his fingers through his dresses. Which should he choose tonight? Should he go for more of a seductress? A dominatrix? Or maybe even something innocent? He picked out a strapless blue dress, one which he knew fit tight to his frame. Perfect. He slipped on the dress and brushed it off as he looked at himself in the mirror. As expected, he could flatter any man. He filled out the dress almost perfectly. Not only that, but the boots added just a touch of dominatrix. His kind of look. With one last wink to the mirror, he pushed open the door and walked into the bar from a side entrance._

_The bass from the music vibrated within his chest in time with his swaying saunter. The men around him immediately picked him out with cat calls and whistles. He scanned his eyes throughout the room, and at one of the tables, he found one of his debtors. He settled into the chair from across the debtor, then traced along his arm._

_"Mind if I sit here?" He raised his voice about an octave or so higher, as he did every time he did this, and easily fooled him with his charm._

_He looked up and swallowed hard at the sight of him. "I- uh... o-of course."_

_He grinned and dragged his foot across the debtor's inner leg. "Actually, I think I want to sit somewhere else. Do you mind if we sit somewhere else?"_

_He saw the other man's face light up as he squirmed. "I-I don't..."_

_"Don't worry. I'll take good care of you."_

_He couldn't help but internally laugh as the man scrambled to his feet and made his way to the door. Every time. They fell for it every time. They adored him._

_He followed after the debtor until they came upon an apartment on the other side of town. The debtor pushed open the door with hands shaking with anticipation, and forced him to the heavily torn couch and desperately kissed him. He smirked against his debtor's lips, legs wrapping about the pathetic weasel's waist._

_"I want something a bit more..." he nipped at the debtor's bottom lip and dragged his nails up his spine, "exciting. Do you have anything we can take before we get to the fun part?"_

_"O-Oh, uh, right, yeah." The rat scrambled to the kitchen and pulled open a drawer, which he pulled out some white powder inside a glass vial._

_There it is. His product. And, not an ounce of money to pay for each ounce he had. "That's quite the stash, big boy. Where'd you get that?"_

_"Buddy of mine, richest man in the city. I borrowed it from him. I'm sure he won't mind if we use a quick hit." He spun open the vial._

_"Why don't you show me how you use it? I just love a," he slid down a piece of his underclothing with a sway of his hips, "demonstration."_

_He saw the rat's face light up brighter and rolled up a piece of paper, tapping some powder onto the counter and inhaling the powder with the makeshift paper funnel. Interesting. Usually people just press their nose to a line. It would explain how the waste uses so much in just a few days, however._

_He laid back against the back of the couch, letting his legs spread as the weasel came back, standing between his legs and resting his hands on his knees._

_"Alright, bitch. You're gonna make me feel good."_

_"Oh, honey." He tsked and shook his head, yanking the filth down by his tie. "You can't get a reward asking like that. Why don't you retry that so I can show you a good time? Hm?"_

_"No, you listen to me." The disgraceful filth gripped his neck and squeezed, restricting his breathing to a few stray wisps. "You're going to give me what I want, and you're gonna do it when I say so."_

_He smirked up at the filth and hooked his finger around his belt loop, which immediately satisfied the filth and retracted his disgusting hand. "I think someone needs to teach you some manners." He flipped the both of them and pinned the weasel against the couch, nails biting into skin. "Just relax, and you'll be in heaven before you know it."_

_Just as he dipped down to lay against the filth, he heard a door open from down the hallway. He arched a brow in that direction and slowly sat up, turning to the weasel, then to the small, terrified woman with bruises compromising her soft skin. He felt something in his chest when he saw how she looked at the both of them. A terror which only grew when the weasel below him growled._

_"Get out of here, bitch. You're not supposed to be fucking out here after your curfew."_

_He jolted when the filth threw him off and stalked back toward the small, helpless, fearful woman, who shook where she stood. He watched as the disgusting waste of human life brought up his hand, and he couldn't bear to let the rat continue._

_"Hey!"_

_The weasel jolted and snapped back to him - probably due to the change in his voice - as he slid out the tiny hand gun from his boot, then pointed it at him._

_"Hands off the lady. Hasn't anyone taught you about chivalry?"_

_He tapped the trigger, the silenced bullet entering through the animal's stomach. He watched the waste fall to the floor as he stepped toward the shaking woman, making sure to press his stiletto boot heel into the weasel's skull when he stepped over it, making it as agonizing as he could so the monster could go out slowly and painfully._

_"Are you alright?"_

_The woman stared up at him, white eyes wide with distrust and fear. "Who a-are you? Are you a man?"_

_He nodded and gave her a reassuring smile. "Don't worry, you're safe now." He brushed the back of his fingers against her injured cheek, and even though he tried to do it as gently as possible, she still flinched at the action. "I am sorry for what this filth has done to you." He took hold of the back of her hand and pressed a light kiss to it. "Forgive me, where are my manners? I'm Great Britain."_

_She gulped and gripped at his hand, pressing into him with a whimper. "Please, I'll do whatever you want, just don't hurt my children. I don't have money, but-"_

_He hushed her and held her shaking body. "It's alright. There's no need to worry now. You're safe now. The monster's gone. I won't hurt your children."_

_She whimpered and clutched at his suit jacket. "I'll do whatever you want. What do you-"_

_"I don't want anything in return." He stepped back and looked down at her with a concerned frown. "What's your name, Miss?"_

_She swallowed hard and stared down at the floor. "France, sir."_

_"There's no need to call me sir." He gave her a smile. "Are your children alright? Are they hurt?"_

_She bit her lip and looked back to the hallway. "I don't know."_

_"What do you mean?"_

_"He wouldn't hit Vietnam." She had tears collecting in her eyes. "He wouldn't hurt them unless I did something."_

_He frowned and looked over at the door closest to him. "How old are they?"_

_"Ten. They're... twins."_

_He swallowed hard and looked down at her again. "Do you need somewhere to stay? I think I can provide the three of you with something."_

_She nodded, pulling away from him and walking toward the bedroom door. "I can't work, and since... he's..." she shook her head. "It's alright. I'm sure we can manage."_

_"I can get you set up in an apartment if you like. On a nicer side of town?"_

_She looked back over at him. "You barely know me."_

_"I would rather see you happy than homeless with two children and unable to work."_

"I believe we met by accident. I asked her out, and she accepted. Nothing of great extravagance." He looked over at Canada. "Does that answer your question?"

Canada nodded in response. "A bit lackluster, but yes."

"Good." He picked his newspaper back up and began reading once again.

... Let's spice things up with a Shapeshifting and Ameridad AU...

Germany softly whistled to himself as he walked through the forest with America and Poland by his sides. America fixed his sunglasses and glanced around at the surroundings, which Germany seemed to notice.

"You see them?" Poland muttered.

"Not yet."

Scotland walked up behind them with a grin. "Oi, who y' look'n f'r?"

"Not sure. Someone was hanging around a bit too closely a bit ago, and we weren't sure who it was."

"Ah, I see. Don't'cha know y' c'n jus' look around f'r anyone who's lookin' fishy?"

"You mean like you showing up out of nowhere?" Poland looked back at Scotland.

"Well, yes." He shrugged.

America looked down as he heard a soft hissing sound, a sleek black snake curling around his leg before shapeshifting into the small Ohio, her eyes wide.

"I didn't smell anyone, dada."

He smiled and nuzzled her cheek. "Thanks for trying, sweetheart."

She giggled and snuggled into his chest when he picked her up. "Dada, can you read me a story when we finish the game?"

"Of course I can." He set her on his shoulders and took hold of her tiny feet so she didn't fall, to which she rested her hands on his head.

Poland snapped his head to the side all of a sudden, catching the attention of everyone else. "I see them."

"Remember the plan?"

Germany nodded and launched into the sky, his body forming into a black eagle and cutting through the air with grace. Poland did the same, flying next to Germany as his color opposite. America stared straight ahead, sliding down his sunglasses to reveal pale yellow eyes, which hyper-focused upon the point in which Germany and Poland currently flew toward. Sure enough, stalking through the forest, he saw a titan brown bear pop up every so often.

"Scotland?"

"Ay?"

"Mind creating a distraction?"

"Ay." He reared back and transformed into a bright white horse, a single horn extending off the end of his head.

America pointed toward the direction of the bear - undoubtedly Russia - and set little Ohio on Scotland's back. "He's off that way. The others can't be too far behind." He gave Ohio one last hug and nuzzle before pulling away. "I'll be back. Have fun with uncle Scotland."

"Okay!"

He grinned and ran into a jump, transforming into a brown and white eagle and zooming off toward Germany and Poland. He cawed at them, to which they pulled back and flew by his side in response. He cawed once more, this time slightly different, and all three of them broke off into different directions.

Germany soared through the sky and stared into the thick forest below him, taking care to analyze every tiny detail below the leaves. He saw a flash of white and, when he looked a little more closely, the shape of a horse galloping through the trees. Scotland.

He dove into the trees and settled himself into one of the branches, blending into the dark colors easily and silently observing as Scotland grew closer and closer to the brown bear in the distance. He saw a tiny jet of white in the sky - Poland - veer to another direction, which meant he undoubtedly spotted someone. He couldn't see America, as he flew into the opposite direction, so he didn't worry too much about him. Just as he expected, he saw Russia pounce on Scotland with a mighty roar and pinned him to the ground, Ohio shrieking from the sudden attack and causing Russia to stumble back in alarm and turn back into a human.

"Oh no, I'm so sorry." Russia helped up a little shaking Ohio, then pulled Scotland up when he transformed. "I didn't mean to scare you."

Germany shook his head and looked back toward the direction he saw Poland flying.

Poland dove for the bright blue flag in the middle of the clearing. He swooped in, snatched it, and jetted out of there as fast as he possibly could. He took off into the sky and cawed as loud as he could, a figure launching into the sky and cawing as well. Definitely America.

He flew as fast as his wings could take him toward America and they both headed back to the rendezvous point, a small rock pedestal which stayed just out of reach of the land animals, and shielded them from getting spied on from above. America and Poland screeched as a signal for Germany and Scotland, hoping they could hear from where they stood. They saw a shadow in the distance, as well as a white unicorn galloping, which then stopped at the foot of the rock face. A blaring ringing ripped through the air, and the other participants made their way to the location, everyone complimenting and congratulating.

They just won the game.

America swooped down and landed in front of Scotland. "Ohio, Sweetheart, let's go home. You look so tired."

Ohio rubbed her eye and looked up at him. "Can I get a story?"

"Of course you can get a story." He pulled her into his arms and rested her against his chest. "Come on, Sweetheart. You can sleep on the way home."

"Okay, Dada." She yawned and cuddled into his chest, and he could see people watching the both of them with adoring expressions as he slid his shades back on and walked over to where he parked his plane. He softly hummed into Ohio's ear to help her fall asleep and rubbed her back, hearing her breathing even out when he stepped into the jet and set her onto his lap.

"Are we ready to return, sir?"

"Yes please," he muttered to the pilot, nuzzling Ohio's cheek.

"Bit of a cheater, aren't you, my boy?"

America jolted and looked up as his father settled into the seat in front of him. "I'm sorry?"

England nodded down toward the small Ohio in his arms. "You weren't supposed to take her here."

"And why not?" He asked slowly, carefully, as he played with Ohio's hair.

"Just because your children want to participate-"

"They are my children, not yours." America nuzzled Ohio's precious little cheek. "You don't know what they're going through."

"But I do know that you could have put her in serious danger."

"Why? Because you planned to attack us?" he shot back. "Is that why? Did you want to finally get rid of me?" He held Ohio closer. "Or is it because they are children which I had because of extramarital-"

"They are illegitimate children," UK responded coolly, an edge in his voice. "How can you stand even looking at them?"

He felt Ohio shift below him as he responded. "They are my children no matter what. I don't see a difference between adopted, 'illegitimate,' or even legitimate. They are my children, and I will not have you ruining their lives by infiltrating mine and using hypocrisy against me."

"Dada?" Ohio looked up at America with curious, sleepy eyes. "What's going on? Is Grandpa England here?"

He glanced up at England from behind his shades. "Yes, Sweetheart, he is."

"Oh. Okay." She looked up at England and waved. "Hi, Grandpa."

England stuck his nose toward the ceiling. "You are not my granddaughter."

Ohio flinched, and America immediately snapped back at England. "Don't you  _dare_  speak to my daughter that way."

"She is not even yours. You adopted her."

Ohio slowly looked up at America. "Dada, what does adopted mean?"

America scowled at England and cradled Ohio close. "Get off my plane."

"I am your superior." England stood up and stood over America. "You cannot force me off this plane."

America placed Ohio in the cockpit with the pilot and muttered for her to stay there while he talks to Grandpa. He shut the door, making sure the noise cancellation turned on by yelling at the door, then turning back to England.

"How  _dare_  you talk to  _my_  daughter like that, you hypocrite! You have done nothing but shaming me for mistakes that I don't even see as mistakes! You continue to treat me as though my children aren't in any way connected to you, just like you did to me until you found out you could earn money from me! You threw me away because of mistakes  _you_  made! Yes, I am your bastard child, but I don't see my children that way. They are all mine, they are all my pride and joy, and I will  _never_  regret having  _any_ of them."

"You disappoint me." England shook his head. "You had your own children before you divorced Mexico. How is it that you don't distinguish your real children from your fake, and-"

"They are  _all_  my real children! Why is that so hard of you to understand!?" He gripped at England's suit jacket and stood up as well. "They are my real children, and they  _always_  will be." He shoved England away. "Now  _get off my plane_!"

He watched England retreat, a chuckle in his voice. "Mark my words, boy. Pretending won't bring you joy."

He slammed the door closed and took a slow breath to steady himself. It's alright. He's fine. He's alright.

He let the door to the cockpit slide open and looked down at Ohio. "Hey, Sweetheart."

"Were you and Grandpa fighting?"

He smiled and pulled her into his arms. "I couldn't let him be mean to you like that. Of course I did."

She sniffled and curled into America. "Why doesn't Grandpa like me?"

"Because he's jealous of you." He nuzzled her cheek with his. "Don't worry. You and your brothers and sisters love y-"

"What does adopted mean?"

America couldn't help the urge to scream at the heavens to banish his father to Hell where he belonged. He didn't plan to tell Ohio, or any of his adopted States, until they at least matured a little bit more. "Ohio, it..." he trailed off and bit his lip. "It just means someone wanted to give you to me so that I could be your Dada. And so, when I saw you, I really really really wanted to be your Dada, so I became your Dada."

She looked up at him with a small confused look. "So... So am I not a part of the family?"

"No no no, you are entirely part of the family." He squeezed her close. "I chose to make you my daughter, and chose to let you be apart of the family. You are a part of this family just as much as anyone else."

"So you chose me to be your daughter?"

"Exactly." He nuzzled her cheek. "I love you, Sweetheart."

"I love you too, Dada." She looked up at him. "Can I hear a story?"

He smiled back and nuzzled her nose with his, making her giggle. "Of course you can. What do you wanna hear?"

"I dunno." She snuggled into his chest and grabbed his shirt.

He played with her hair and hummed in thought. "Alright. Maybe one story."

...

America curled into Anwir's side on the bed as though he couldn't sleep without it. Anwir chuckled from above him and played with his hair, the pleasant humming on his scalp lulling him further into dozing with every stroke of his hair.

"Are you tired, America?" Anwir took up his hand and pressed light kisses to it. "We don't have to do anything tonight if you feel too exhausted to do so."

America only hummed and snuggled into Anwir's chest with a swelling feeling. "Just stay with me. I want to spend a day off with you."

America could hear the amusement in Anwir's voice as he sighed. "You're too adorable sometimes. And to think I thought you would be an arrogant ego-maniac." He felt something soft press against the top of his head. "Boy, was I wrong."

He shrugged a bit and desperately tried to hide his embarrassment. "I'm not  _that_  arrogant..."

Anwir laughed and patted his back. "I know that."

America opened his mouth to say something when he heard his radio go off in the living room. "George?" Massachusetts called.

America sighed and dreaded the next few moments while he stood up, not bothering to put on any pants as he picked up the call. He pressed a button and spoke into the microphone. "George speaking."

"What are you doing? You're not at your home. Have you gone out somewhere?"

"I'm out of my home right now, yes. Why do you ask?" He felt Anwir's arms wrap around him, as well as Anwir's chin rested on his shoulder. He couldn't help the smile that worked onto his face and cuddled into Anwir's hold, a fluttering feeling growing lighter when he felt Anwir press soft kisses along his cheek, jaw, neck, and shoulder.

"Carolyn's getting hairy again."

He sighed and ran a hand down his face. Of course South Carolina was trying to sabotage civil reforms again. He couldn't be surprised by any of the Solid South anymore. "Alright. I'll handle it when I-"

"George, we need you here."

"Madison."

"What are you even doing?"

"Oh, are you trying to snitch on me, Madison?" South Carolina crooned. Of course.

America just sighed and turned down the volume of the radio and rolled back. "Sometimes I wonder why I even bother. No one can agree on anything."

Anwir chuckled and kissed his forehead. "Don't worry. They can solve it themselves. They're old enough." He pulled America back toward the bedroom and pulled him on top. "Come on. Let's just relax. Relax with me."

America curled into his chest and nodded. "I'm so sorry about all of this. I shouldn't be so stressed out."

Anwir brushes the back of his fingers down America's cheek. "Don't worry. I understand."

America traced along Anwir's collarbone and nuzzled closer. "Thank you."

"Any time." Anwir softly took hold of America's chin and coaxed him into a soft kiss.


	7. Domestic

Alaska screeched and screamed while Hawaii bawled and curled around a small doll she held. New Mexico chased Arizona around with a stick she could barely hold, and Oklahoma curled into America's chest and sniffled. America looked tired as all hell while he took hold of Oklahoma's tiny hand before walking out and setting him on his bed with his trusted, snuggly blanket. America pressed a soft kiss to Oklahoma's forehead and played with his hair, then tucked up the blanket around him.

"Good night, Okes." He propped Oklahoma up a bit by placing pillows behind his back. He couldn't help but flinch as he heard Oklahoma cough his tiny little lungs out.

"Dada." Oklahoma sniffled and coughed. "Read?"

America smiled and nuzzled Oklahoma's burning cheek. "I will. Let me go calm down your little siblings first, okay?"

Oklahoma sniffled and rubbed his light tan eye with the back of his hand. "Okay."

America grinned and kissed Oklahoma's temple. "I'll be right back." He got up and walked out the door, then prepared himself. "New Mexico, put down the stick or you're in time out. Arizona, stop trying to fight your sister! You need to get ready for bed." He looked down at Alaska. "It's bedtime, Alaska."

"No bedtime!" Alaska ran up and climbed onto America's lower leg. "No no no no no!"

America pulled off Alaska and rested his hands on the little one's shoulders as he crouched down. "You need to go to bed."

Alaska screamed and wailed at America to not do it and slammed his fist against America's chest.

"Hey." America held Alaska's hands immediately and pulled them away. "No hitting."

Alaska only continued to scream. America sighed and pulled Alaska into his arms. Of course Alaska wanted to throw a temper tantrum right before bed.

"Alaska, you need to get to bed, or you can't go have fun with everyone tomorrow." America palmed open his door and set Alaska down. "You can play more in the morning, okay?"

"No!"

"Alaska-"

"No!"

America sighed and kissed his forehead. "I'll let you listen to music, okay?" He started up the small CD player. "Good night, Alaska. I love you." He squeezed Alaska's hand and closed the door, letting Alaska cry himself to bed. As he walked down the hallway to get Hawaii, he found Arizona holding up Hawaii's doll above his head, grinning as he watched her cry.

"Mine!"

Hawaii cried and wailed for Arizona to give her doll back, tears streaming down her bright red face as she sat down on the floor. America plucked the doll from Arizona's hand and shook his head.

"Go to the corner. You're in time out for five minutes."

"No! I'm not going in the corner!"

"Arizona, I'm not going to argue." He grabbed Arizona's hand and put him down on the chair in the corner while setting a timer. "You have five minutes."

Arizona crossed his arms and huffed, but stayed in place. America smiled, then turned back around and gave Hawaii her doll back. He picked her up and watched her immediately calm down when she held her little doll and curled into America's chest. He pushed open her door and set her down, pressing a small kiss to her forehead, then gave her a smile.

"It's time for bed, okay?"

She sniffled and shuddered little gasps escaped her. "O- kay."

"Do you want me to play you some music, or do you want me to tell a story?"

"So- ong." She sniffled and clutched at his shirt.

He smiled and rubbed her back while he turned on the CD player. "Okay." He kissed her forehead and hugged her close. "Good night, Hawaii. I'll see you in the morning." He nuzzled her cheek. "I love you."

She sniffled and nodded, then hugged his arm. "Love you."

He hugged her back and laid her down, tucking the fabric over her and gave her hand one last squeeze before pulling away. "I'll see you in the morning." He then shut the door behind him, and found Alaska running past him and into the living room with a remote in hand. "Alaska, it's bedtime. You need to go to bed."

America grabbed Alaska's arm and took him back to his room. Alaska screamed and screamed and screamed in protest, but he just set him back down on the bed and shut the door behind him. Alaska tried his hardest to get America back, and he didn't listen. He heard the timer go off and made his way back to Arizona, who sniffled and wrapped his arms around him and buried his face in his shoulder.

"Arizona, I gave you time out because you took your sister's doll and didn't give it back. Can you say you're sorry?"

"I'm sorry, Dada."

"It's alright, Arizona." He hugged Arizona back, then took hold of his hand. "Let's go put you to bed, okay?"

Arizona nodded and walked behind him as he walked to his and New Mexico's bedroom. When he opened the door, New Mexico looked up from her bed with a book in her hand.

"It looks like you're ready for bed already. Good job." He squeezed hers and Arizona's hands and grinned. "Do you want me to read to you, or do you want to listen to music?"

"Story!"

He pulled the chair up to the two and grabbed the book New Mexico had in her hand. "Do you wanna help me read?"

"Yeah," Arizona replied while New Mexico nodded and they both sat on the edge of the bed.

He pulled open the book and started reading, letting Arizona and New Mexico take turns making little voices of their own and acting silly while reading. When they reached the end of the story, Arizona and New Mexico both settled back into their beds and snuggled into their blankets.

"Good night, you two. I'll see you in the morning." He squeezed their hands. "I love you."

"We love you too, Dada." Arizona and New Mexico both grinned.

He gave their hands one more squeeze, then closed the door behind him. He walked into the kitchen and pulled open the cupboards to find the medicine. He took the vial and used a syringe to suck a teaspoon up and pushed it into the small cup, then mixed it with a chocolate syrup to mask the taste. With one last satisfied nod, he made his way to Oklahoma's room and pushed open the door, finding Oklahoma holding a book and staring at it.

"Hello, Oklahoma." He sat down next to Oklahoma on the bed. "I'm sorry that took so long."

Oklahoma coughed into his arm curled into America's side. "It's okay."

America held up the tiny cup to Oklahoma. "Here."

Oklahoma took the cup and sipped it. America smiled and rubbed his back, holding him close and nuzzling his cheek.

"What story would you like to read?" He let Oklahoma cuddle to his chest.

"I wanna read a chapter book."

"Oh, a chapter book? What kind?" He held Oklahoma in a blanket in his lap.

"I wanna read... that one." He pointed to the little book with a boy on a pterodactyl. "I wanna read the one with the dinosaur."

America pulled out the book and looked at it. Magic Tree House? Alright. "Dinosaurs Before Dark?"

"Yeah!" Oklahoma coughed into his arm again.

America pulled open the book and rubbed Oklahoma's back, then started reading the book with Oklahoma. They finished the first chapter and America put Oklahoma to bed. America settled down on the couch in the now quiet house, closing his eyes and rubbing his face with a sigh. At one point, he thought he wouldn't have this kind of quiet ever again. As much as he loved his kids, he sometimes just couldn't catch a break for any kind of self care. So, for the first time in a while, he turned on the TV and switched over the channels one by one while he made his way to the cupboard and grabbed the whiskey and poured himself a glass. He sipped on his drink and settled back onto the couch, letting the pleasant hum settle in. He felt his eyes grow heavy, and the soft droning of the TV grow quieter...

...

"Come and take it!"

Mamá screeched as Texas shot a cannon at her while he held his little baby sister. " _Mijo_ , how _dare_  you! _Soy tu madre_ , and you will _listen_ to me!" She gripped his arm and pinned him to the wall, her nails burying into his arm and growling.

Texas whimpered and kicked at her knee. "Let go of me! Dada! Dada-"

Mamá slapped her hand over his mouth with a fire blazing in her eyes. - _¡Silencio!_

New Mexico cried in Texas' arms as he bit down hard on his mother's hand, causing Mamá to scream and grab her chancla as she ripped her hand away from Texas' mouth. Texas sprinted down the hallway and cradled his little sister to his chest as Mamá screamed at him to get back and take his punishment for disrespecting her. He pinned himself inside his room and slammed closed the door behind him, panting and locking the door behind him. Not a second later, Mamá's voice screamed and banged against the door behind him, streams of curses and Spanish insults almost just as effective in breaking down the door. He curled around his sister and pinned himself to the bed against the wall. He needed to protect his sister. He needed to protect himself. He wanted Dada to come home.

Texas held New Mexico as she cried and cried. He tried to keep her quiet by nuzzling her closer, but she only screamed louder. He wanted Dada to take them back. He wanted Dada to come back and take them away from scary Mamá. He didn't want Mamá hurting him or his baby siblings.

He snapped his head up when he heard the door slammed open and thrown off his hinges. He curled around New Mexico as she screamed and cried. Mamá stomped over to him and yanked him off the bed. He yanked New Mexico away from him and threw him to the ground. He scrambled away and tried to grab New Mexico back, but Mamá pushed him back and he fell to the ground yet again. He wanted Dada to come back. Why couldn't Dada come back? He just wanted to be-

He heard the front door open, followed by Dada's voice, then sprinting. Dada then showed up in the room and Mamá whipped around.

"Mi amor, you are finally home!" Her entire demeanor changed on the flip of a switch and she nuzzled close to him. "I-"

"What have you done to our son?"

Mamá sputtered as she backed away from Dada while holding a squirming, screaming New Mexico. "I did nothing to him! He bit my hand and so I-"

Dada pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed as Texas sprinted to Dada's leg and grasped desperately at it, burying his face into it and whimpering. "Dada. Dada, she tried to hurt New Mexico!"

He felt Dada kneel down and pull him close, hushing him and nuzzling close. "It's alright." He looked up at Mamá, his face still hidden in the shadow of his hat. -¿Qué estás haciendo, amor? ¿Por qué está Texas hablando sobre ahora mismo?

-El niño estupido quiere a hacer nuestras vidas un infierno viviente. Es un _mentiroso_  y un irrespetuoso. _Sabes_ que yo _nunca_ se dolería. Mamá stomped and pointed at Texas with her free hand while New Mexico screamed in her arm. -Nuestro niño es un mentiroso y siempre será.

Dada pulled Texas into his arms and walked back out toward the kitchen. -Salí.

Mamá blinked and frowned. -¿Qué?

Dada pressed a soft kiss to Texas' forehead, then nuzzled his cheek. -Salí. _Ahora_. Salí y _nunca_ vuelvas.

Mamá growled and held New Mexico close to her, but Dada easily extracted New Mexico from her arms, to which she screamed and shouted out protests. Dada continued to stand his ground, trying his best to keep calm as he stared Mamá straight in the face. Finally, after a screaming match which ended up upsetting Texas' little siblings, as well as some of the older ones who ended up coming downstairs to see what the hell all the shouting originated from. Eventually, Mamá fled the scene, Dada now sporting yet another bruise to his cheek, as well as a few angry red lines up and down his arms and across his face.

Texas looked up at Dada and sniffled. "I-Is she gone?"

Dada leaned down and hugged him and New Mexico close. "She's gone. She's gone."

...

"So, who you texting?"

America slammed down his phone as Massachusetts slid up to his side with a grin on her face. "No one, Massa. Aren't you supposed to be working on-"

"Finished." Massachusetts grinned wider and grabbed for America's phone, but he easily held it away from one of his eldest companion.

"Massa-"

Massachusetts launched off the couch and snatched the phone from America's hand, then sprinted off toward her Toyota Rav-4. America's anxiety shot through the roof, slamming past the door and dodging to the side as he barely passed by a tree. He needed to get that phone at _all costs_. He needed to before-

Massachusetts slammed her door closed and locked it, easily typing in the code and stopping to read the texts on the other side. America banged and screamed and shouted, but to no avail. He watched as Massachusetts' face slowly dropped, and her marigold and snow eyes had an eerily constant glaze over them. America felt his heart drop, and he slowly backed away from the car. This couldn't be happening. No. No no no, he didn't mean for this to happen. He never meant for any of his States to know. They didn't- He pinned himself against a tree, but he couldn't feel a thing. This was the end. Massachusetts, and- And the rest would find out- And his diplomacy- And his- And- His heartbeat rushed through his ears and rang louder than any white noise. His panting spiraled out of control, and he felt his hands grow slick with sweat. Delaware wasn't supposed to know. None of them were- He didn't- He-

He saw Massachusetts slowly push open her car door. He saw Massachusetts stare up at him with his phone in hand, and a dead look within her eyes. And then, he heard it.

"How long has this been going on?"

America felt his throat close up involuntarily. "I-"

"How long have you been interested in men?"

America stared off to the side and shook his head. "N- I- I don't-"

"Why didn't you tell me?"

America frowned in confusion. That... That definitely wasn't the answer he expected. "What?"

"Why didn't you tell me?" Massachusetts repeated, taking hold of America's hands and staring up at him.

"I _couldn't_ , Massa." He chanced a glance back at her. "You know I can't do that. Especially not back then." He crossed his arms over himself and squeezed his eyes shut. "I can't do that. I can't ruin everything I've built up for myself. I can't risk-"

Massachusetts covered his mouth and frowned at him. "So, what, you just thought you would go your whole life ignoring something that is apart of your identity?"

"If..." America swallowed hard and ran a hand down his face. "If that's what it comes down to."

Massachusetts bit her lip and pulled him back into the house. "Let's talk inside."

America sighed in defeat and walked after her. "Massachusetts, I can't... I can't tell anyone about this. That... I couldn't risk exposing myself."

"Just try it with Ireland, won't you?" Massachusetts looked up at him. "I haven't seen you that happy in so long. Please."

He shook his head. "I can't. Not after An... not after that mess."

Massachusetts hugged America close. "Just remember that you can always count on me."

He wrapped his arms around her and nodded. "... Thank you."

...

Germany fidgeted on the other side of the couch as he thought of some way to calm the thickening atmosphere. He needed to say something. He had to make sure. He had to do it.

"I'm sorry."

He heard shifting on the other side of the couch, and he saw Poland swivel to look at him. "Germany, this is the fourth time you've apologized. It's fine."

Germany swallowed hard and wiped his square glasses. "Sorry. I just wanted to..."

Poland sighed and turned back to the TV in front of them. "It's fine, Germany. There's nothing to worry about." Poland patted the spot next to him. "Here. Come sit by me. You can see if it helps you."

Germany swallowed hard and pulled at his white gloves, debating with himself for a moment before complying. He left a bit of space between them - more for his sanity's sake - and kept a tight posture. He plastered on his stoic expression as he stared forward, shoulders uncomfortably square and back painfully straight.

"May I touch you?" Poland asked after a tense moment of silence.

Germany thought about it for a moment. He had been with Poland long enough to know he wouldn't do anything to hurt him. Allowing him to touch him wouldn't be the end of the world. He could do it. He could accept it.

Germany nodded, and a moment later, he felt Poland's fingers lightly sift through his hair. Poland kept the touch light, and the touch, rather than sending disgusting fits of panic every time something made contact, instead felt pleasant. It hummed rather than shocked. He let his shoulders slowly relax, and his back give up its strain. He heard Poland hum to him and felt him keep his hand movements slow, and he finally let himself settle into his seat.

"There's no need to worry about me, Germany. I'm okay now. And so are you." Poland took his hand away and put on a light little smile. "None of it was your fault, and you didn't do anything to me."

Germany hesitated a moment before placing his hand on Poland's. "I'm..."

"Don't worry." Poland let his fingers lace with Germany's, and Germany squeezed his hand back. "It's okay now. Let's watch some TV."

Germany nodded and turned back to the TV, and laid his head on Poland's shoulder. Poland let his hand rest on his opposite arm, and the two watched TV. Germany eventually felt himself falling asleep.

Poland looked down at a sleeping Germany next to his side. He pressed a soft kiss to Germany's temple and slowly laid him down across the couch. Poland then stood up and walked into the kitchen, pouring a glass of water for himself. He looked back at sweet Germany asleep on the couch, and sipped on his drink. He smiled at his now boyfriend, and traced along the rim of his cup.

"Good night, Germany. I'll see you in the morning."

...

America hummed to the tiny Hawaii in his arms to try and help her sleep. He rocked her from side to side, and after a few minutes, he heard her fall asleep. Just as he stood up to put her to bed, he heard the doorbell ring. He felt little Hawaii jolt in his arms and look at the door, her bright white and red eyes wide with tears. America felt a streak of defeat as Hawaii began to cry and clutch at his shirt. He sighed and walked to the door, then opened it with a dead look from behind his sunglasses. He saw Canada on the other side, an apologetic smile on his face.

"Sorry about that, America." Canada looked down at the small Hawaii, then up at America. "So... you have another... child."

America nodded and nuzzled Hawaii's cheek, trying to calm her down. "I do. Have for two years now. Have you not been here in that long?"

Canada sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "You do realize there's something called _protection_ , right? So you don't have so many accidents?"

"They aren't accidents. Accidents implies I regret it happening." He gestured for Canada to follow him inside. "Here. Come on in. Or, did you just come over to insult me and my children?"

"No." Canada closed the door behind him and looked over at Hawaii. "... She's beautiful. As are all your children."

"Thank you." America patted Canada's shoulder and walked inside with him. "So, what brings you here, then?"

"Well, I have to be a good uncle somehow, right?" Canada made his way into the kitchen and pulled something out of his pocket. "Speaking of your children, where are they?"

America chuckled. "My firsts are probably out with their friends somewhere. Texas is playing with New Mexico. Some of the younger ones are sleeping. Some of the others are watching a movie. I think Oklahoma is reading a book. Utah, North and South Dakota, and Colorado are probably fighting over whether or not snowboarding or skiing is better. I finally got Alaska to go to bed a few minutes ago. I think the others might just be doing whatever they like in their rooms." He nuzzled Hawaii's cheek and continued to hum to her, to which she began falling asleep again. "Why do you ask?"

"I heard Israel is coming into town."

He jolted and looked over, a sudden splash of pink dusting his cheeks. "Wh- really?"

His sudden enthusiasm made Canada smirk and chuckle. "Yes." Canada rested his jaw on his propped up fist as he sat down at the bar. "So, may I babysit for a while?"

America bit his lip and glanced to the side. He really wanted to go see her, but... "Are you... Are you sure you can handle it?"

Canada waved his little brother off with a scoff. "Of _course_  I can. I'm Canada. How hard could it be?"

America nuzzled Hawaii one last time before setting her in Canada's lap. "If you're... sure."

"Of course I'm sure. Go have fun. You've been alone with your kids for a while now. You deserve a break." Canada held Hawaii close to his chest and kissed her forehead.

"No, you don't understand-"

"I'll be _fine_ , America." Canada nudged his shoulder with a grin. "Don't worry."

America rubbed the back of his neck and gave a smile. "Thank you." He gave Hawaii one last smile, then grabbed his fingerless gloves and walked out the door.

Canada sighed and nuzzled Hawaii's cheek. "This couldn't be so bad. How bad could it be?"

.

"This is so bad."

Canada now curled into a ball, his head clutched in his hands, and his bright orange and white eyes wide with stress and terror. Children and teens screamed and chased each other around - some with _guns_  for God's sake! - with some even running each other over with... were those _Barbie cars_!? What kind of nineteen year old rides around in a _toy Barbie car_!? Some had drinks _and_  guns, spitting out insults at each other and rambling, while others cried in a corner due to some kind of religious debate. Even Utah got involved somehow. At _eight_!

What kind of demon children _were_  these!? How can America _love_  these monsters!?

"Uncle Canada!"

Canada shook as he slowly turned around, and found Alabama and Mississippi walking out the door.

"We're going out to meet two of our friends!"

Before they could reach the door, Delaware ended up running them over with his Barbie car with a maniacal laugh. "Not this time! Dad will kill you if he finds the box gone!"

"What box!?"

An ear piercing neigh came from the other side of the room, and there on a full grown horse with New Mexico clutching at his waist, sat thirteen year old Texas with a pistol in his hand, and a cowboy hat and boots. "Yeeeeehaaaaw!"

"Texas, how did you get a _horse_  in here!?"

"Got a problem there, partner?" Wh- how did Texas end up with a cigar in his mouth!? Where did it come from!?

"Get that cigar out of your mouth, you're just thirteen! Hey, look at me when I'm talking to you, young man!"

"Let's git, Sugar!" Texas kicked the powder white and grey horse - Sugar - into a sprint across the house, New Mexico screaming and giggling in approval.

"Faster, Sugar, faster!"

"No, don't go up the stairs with Sugar!" Canada tried to run after Texas, but heard a gunshot, then the screaming of Hawaii and Alaska. He feared the worst as he snapped around, finding New Jersey and New York having a shooting contest, and Hawaii holding a gun in her hand with tears streaming down her face and screaming. "New York, New Jersey, no! Get that gun away from your siblings!"

New York simply responded with, "They're two, they're old enough."

" _WHAT!?_ "

"Fire!"

Louisiana and Florida launched a _fully grown_   _gator_  across the living room and into the tank on the other side, the big monster hissing and snapping as it crashed into the box and got trapped under the cage when it fell over. Where did all these animals even come from!?

Just as he tried to run for the phone to call animal control, he felt two arms yank him back and pin him to the banister pole, and not two seconds later, felt his arms tied to it, and his legs on either side.

"Can't go anywhere now, can you, uncle?" North Carolina grinned at him as South Carolina wrapped an arm around his shoulder.

"Let's play a game with him."

"Good idea, South. Couldn't think of anything better to do."

Canada swallowed hard and stared helplessly as North and South Carolina snickered amongst themselves and started taking out different little bugs and small animals, then placing them on him, causing him to squirm and shiver and yelp as the creatures crawled and squished along his skin. He tried to escape, but North and South only laughed at him as he screamed for them to take them off.

"Get them off!"

"But why?"

"I don't like bugs!"

North and South both pouted, but their eyes held... something behind them. Something mischievous. "If you say so."

They both pulled the bugs off of him, then pulled away. Canada sighed and slumped forward, closing his eyes and letting his adrenaline slow down just a bit.

"Georgia!" North and South screamed.

Georgia appeared between the two, grin bright. "You called?"

"Why don't we show Uncle Canada what _real_  fun looks like?"

Canada squeezed his eyes shut and feared the worst, and for a few moments, he felt nothing. Then, he felt the ropes around his wrists fall to the floor. He hesitantly opened his eyes and looked up to find Georgia, South, and North all grinning down at him.

"What did you expect? For us to do something dirty to you?"

Canada swallowed and cleared his throat. He brushed off his jumpsuit and stood up straight, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Well, come on. We haven't seen you in forever. Can't you just play some video games with us?"

"Video... games?"

"Yeah, they're cool! There's this new game called Tetris. Have you played it?"

Canada swallowed hard and shook his head. "N-No."

"Come play it with us."

"Please?"

"The game is so good!"

Somehow, Canada expected something much more... violent to come out of this. With a wary mind, he agreed, and they all moved to the living room to the box TV that somehow stayed intact.

"Aren't you three almost twenty? What even are video games?" Canada tried to calm his rapidly beating heart, but to no avail.

"Well, they're games, but... on video."

Georgia started up the console, and both North and South settled next to Georgia on either side. Canada took a moment to settle down, the house behind him still descending into chaos. The four of them began playing videogames and, gradually, the house behind them grew silent. Children appeared around them one by one. Eventually, Canada felt someone crawl into his lap. He looked down to see little Alaska and Hawaii, cuddling into him and watching the box TV. The older children tried to cheer on or argue about where the pieces should go in order to get a tetris, and the controller looped around through the siblings, one by one. Eventually, everyone had their turn, and the controller landed in Canada's hands. He looked over at the kids and teens, all of them looking up at him with expectant looks and encouraging smiles, and he turned back to the TV. He got the hang of the game after a few missed pieces, and he eventually racked up points while the siblings all cheered him on and shouted for the piece to get into place. Eventually, he passed the controller back to Georgia, and the siblings all looked back at Canada.

"Uncle Canada, can you make pancakes for us?"

"Can we help?"

"We can set the table!"

The younger siblings all started chattering between themselves about the promise of pancakes, but Canada shook his head.

"Not until the house is clean."

Delaware grinned and gestured behind Canada. "What do you mean? It is clean."

"No it's n-"

He turned around and, sure enough, no evidence of what happened just two hours prior remained. Not a single hoof print, stain, scratch, tread mark, or even animal remained, and it looked just as good as he left it.

"... How did- Wh- When-"

"What's wrong, Uncle Canada?" Georgia wrapped an arm around his shoulders and grinned. "Were you expecting something?"

Canada shut his mouth and shook his head. "How did you even have _time_  for all of this? Where did all the guns go? What happened to all the broken glass? Where are the horses and the crocodiles-"

"Gators," Florida corrected.

"-and the bugs? How did you all even clean this?"

"We wanted to watch you play Tetris, Uncle Canada." Oklahoma wrapped his arms around Canada's leg and looked up at him. "And you make good pancakes."

Canada couldn't help but smile and leaned down, hugging little Oklahoma close. "Thank you. You're too sweet."

"Can we help make pancakes, Uncle Canada?" Oklahoma looked up at him with hopeful, sparkling eyes. "Please?"

Canada's heart melted at the sight, and he just couldn't bring himself to say no. He and the siblings broke off into the massive kitchen and whipped up mounds of pancakes, which the siblings all consumed in record time, even little Alaska and Hawaii. Eventually, after the nightmarish hassle of getting the little ones to brush their teeth and go to bed, he collapsed on the couch and rubbed his face. Nearly six hours had passed, and it felt like he just ran through an eternity.

He heard snickering above him, and he feared the worst. He looked up to find Georgia, South Carolina, and North Carolina all grinning at him.

"Did you figure out what it was?"

Canada glanced to the side, a frown of confusion on his face. "Figure out what?"

The teens only giggled as they walked away. "No reason."

Canada feared for his life from that point forward, until the moment his little brother came home. His brother came home about two hours later, around eleven at night, looking more relaxed than he had seen America wear in decades. He smiled as he passed Canada, an unmistakable dust of pink upon his cheeks.

"Did you enjoy yourself?"

America sighed and nodded, draping himself across one of the chairs across from Canada. "I had an amazing time. I forgot how nice it was to hang out with someone and relax."

"Oh, I'm sure you did something more than just 'hang out,' America." Canada grinned as he saw the blush light up brighter.

"We didn't do anything obscene, Canada." He laid down further against the couch, closing his eyes and sighing. "... Thank you. For letting me do that."

"Of course. What are brothers for?"

America grinned. "Well, thank you anyway. I'm sure the States gave you a hell of a lot of trouble."

As much as Canada wanted to explain what happened, he didn't want to take away America's chance at holding onto his euphoria. So, instead, he gave a half-truth. "We just played some video games and ate pancakes." He patted America's arm as he stood up and walked toward the front door. "Don't worry. If you need to get out more, just let me know. I'm always there to help."

"Thanks, Canada. I really do appreciate it."

"Any time, brother." Canada pushed open the door and walked to his Hyundai Pony. "Any time."

"Oh, Canada, before you go?"

Canada looked back with a smile. "What is it?"

"I just wanted to know." America stood up and walked over to him, plucking something from his hair and showing it to him. "Why do you have a bunch of bugs in your hair?"

A scream echoed throughout the house, followed by a chorus of maniacal laughter.


	8. German Boi Meets Poland Boi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I could make a third part that's a lot more fluffy than this. Probably not as long, but definitely a lot more fluffy.

Germany hummed and bit on his pen while staring out into the foggy afternoon over the city of Washington D.C. The fiftieth anniversary of NATO. Of course America had to go over the top for it as well. Apparently, the extravagant man planned to take all of them to a room made especially for this meeting. Germany couldn't help but laugh at him. He always has to do something over the top for all of them, doesn't he? He smirked and shook his head, shifting his square glasses and pushing them up so they didn't fall off the edge of his nose.

"Something on your mind, Sir Germany?"

Germany blinked out of his reverie to look over at Virginia, who gave him a smile as she held papers within her hands, papers America no doubt asked her to collect from him and the other attending members. "I'm sorry?"

"Is something bothering you, Sir Germany?" she repeated, sliding some papers into a manila folder and keeping on a smile.

"No no, I'm just thinking to myself." He gave her a smile back, then turned to stare out in front of him while they walked down to some 'undisclosed location' - the White House - America told them to report to.

Virginia escorted him into the building, and pushed open the double doors. They now stood in a grand hall, a semi-circle table clothed in a delicate pearl-white drape hinted with a small quatrefoil pattern of a lighter white. The whole room decorated with bright golds and soft whites, chandeliers shimmering as the candles which lined the table flickered. America stood in - shockingly - a sleek black tuxedo with his hair done up and his sunglasses polished. He even had a glittering golden tie, matching the golds which surrounded him, and a lack of fingerless gloves, which Germany thought America could never separate himself from. He folded his arms as he spoke with one of the other States about the schedule of the dinner, speaking with a more serious tone than Germany had ever heard, even more so than when discussing matters of USSR years prior. It almost looked funny.

"Sir America?"

America turned around, mouth open to say something, and scowl upon his face, but as soon as he saw Germany, his scowl immediately brightened into a grin. "Ah, Germany! How are you?"

Germany gave a short nod in greeting and pulled at his gloves. "I'm fine, thank you. And yourself?"

"Just making sure the dinner is all polished and ready to go." He fixed his sunglasses and bit his lip. "Gotta make this special. It's the fiftieth anniversary of NATO, you know."

"Yes, America, I know." Germany rested his hands behind his back. "May I point out something?"

"If you'd like." America flinched as he heard a plate shatter on the other side of the room, probably dropped by another State, or one of his closest employees.

"You overcompensate yourself." Germany looked around the room and brushed down his black suit. "There's no need to make this so significant. It's only fifty years."

America laughed and waved him off. "I mean, you're right, but what the hell? I have a knack for throwing myself into stressful situations these days."

Germany shrugged and rested his gloved hands in his suit pockets. "I suppose. So, when do you plan on having the others showing up?"

"Not long from now." He looked over at some of the other employees and States who scrambled to get everything ready, then turned back to Germany. "I just wanted to warn you that... well, you know. We're having the new ones over too. You know, Czech Republic, Hungary, and... yeah."

Germany tried his best not to react externally. Right. Only a month ago, not one, but two of the countries his brother took over fifty years ago,  _and_ a country his brother allied with, all joined NATO. The most worrying of the three, Poland, probably posed the most danger to him due to the violence between him and his brother. Facing the one his brother tore in half...

Germany looked up at America and nodded. "Thank you for the warning. I'll try to keep that in mind during the meeting today."

America grinned and reached out his hand to Germany's, which he hesitated a moment before shaking it back. "No problem, Germany. I'm sure it'll turn out fine for you. And, if not, we can help you with it."

"I'm sure nothing too bad will happen, but I appreciate the offer, America." He pulled his hand away, ignoring the urge to scratch at his hand. "Does it have to be so formal?"

"All of these meetings have to be formal, but what can you do? Isn't that what G8 is for?" America laughed and fixed his sunglasses over his eyes. "You and France definitely had the right idea in making that."

"Can't be formal at every meeting. That just takes too much energy." Germany shrugged. "Twenty five years, and still going strong. Economies have to work out somehow, right?"

"Of course." America sighed and brushed his suit down. "Well, the others should be showing up any minute. If you ever feel threatened, just know you can tell me. I'll try to help you in any way I can."

"Again, thank you for the offer." Germany looked back over at the door as it opened, revealing Canada and Washington chatting and laughing together.

"Hey Canada." America grinned as Washington bid Canada farewell and walked away with a careless salute.

"America." Canada grasped America's hand and pulled him into a half-hug, then pulled away. "You ready for today?"

"Think so."

Canada grinned and turned over to Germany. "Hey again, Germany. It's nice to see you. Do you think you'll be alright during the meeting today?"

Germany chuckled and pushed up his glasses. "Yes, Canada. I'm sure I can handle myself. But, thank you for offering anyway."

Canada nodded and held out his hand to Germany, which he took a few seconds later. "You're welcome, Germany. Tell me if you need anything." With that, he pulled away and moved to go talk to America, who stood on his little platform he planned to talk from at the opening of the dinner. America held cards in his hand, giving them to Canada and speaking out loud. Practicing a speech? Possibly.

"Oh, Germany, welcome!"

Germany looked over to see NATO with a bright smile. "Ah, NATO. Good to see you."

"Thank you, thank you. Please enjoy yourself, alright?" NATO gave a short bow and fixed his gold tie before walking away to tend to some sort of last minute business.

Germany settled himself down in his designated seat and sat straight, watching as the others walked in one by one. UK sporting his top hat and prized golden monocle, Spain with his trusted gold-plated cane, Portugal and her gold-embroidered eye patch, Norway strutting in with his suit jacket slung over his shoulder to display his Scandinavian tattoos, Italy holding a thin cigarette within two of his gold-ringed fingers, Greece holding Italy's other hand with bright gold cuffs connecting long streams of see-through white fabric to her flowing white dress, France dancing in in her skin-tight pearl and gold dress, Iceland brushing his fingers through his well-kept beard with his tattooed hand, Netherlands and her finely braided bright yellow hair laced with strands of gold, Luxembourg and his meticulously groomed face and hair, Denmark with a soft touch of makeup and twirling around to reveal Scandinavian tattoos of her own, Belgium twirling a small coin between his fingers, Hungary holding a cigarette between his teeth, Czech swinging her gold bracelet-clad arms around while she danced with France, Turkey fixing his suit so his gold necklace glimmered much more, and... and Poland, a man with soft dirty blonde hair, a semi-fitting black suit, and a little gold pin of a star on the flap. He forced himself to look away and stared straight ahead, a small shock of anxiety swirling around in his chest. He couldn't face Poland. Not after what his brother did to him.

He watched them all sit down, their State escorts all departing the moment they took their seats, and chatter amongst themselves about different events which had taken place, namely the Eurovision song contest. Of course, other things came up as well, such as some of the older members of NATO watching the newest, especially Poland, who many knew as a country who rebelled against the Soviet Union years prior. They whispered and glanced over to Germany every once in a while, to which he only fixed his glasses and tugged at his white leather gloves.

A few moments later, America stood up and adjusted his suit as he adjusted the microphone, and with one last clear of his throat, began to speak into it. "Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the White House. Welcome to Washington, and to the NATO Summit. Some of you know that I am a bit of a fan of music, and I wanted to tell some of you," he scratched at the side of his temple, "about a bit of history related to the founding of NATO fifty years ago. When the initial North Atlantic Treaty was signed, the United States Marine Band, which is in the audience to play for us today," he gestured out into the back of the Grand Hall, where men and women all waved with instruments in hand, "was in the auditorium then playing a group of songs from George Gershwin's opera of Porgy and Bess. The two songs they played were 'I Got Plenty of Nothing,' and 'It Ain't Necessarily So.' Well, I think, after fifty years, we can still appreciate Gershwin, but the songs were poorly timed because NATO has had plenty of substance, and its word has been necessarily so." He bit his lip and looked out to the people with a smile as some of the audience, mostly the older members, broke into chuckles.

Germany glanced over at the other attendants of the party, and found Poland staring at him with a star white and blood red eyes, his arms folded, and his face eerily neutral.

"In 1949, when we entered NATO, it signified a radical departure in my people's history because we had been warned from the time of my first President, George Washington, against entangling alliances with other nations." America paused for a moment and looked off to the side. "But, I learned the hard way after World War One, that the warning was no longer valid in the twentieth century." He looked back ahead toward all the rest of them.

Poland looked up at America for just a moment, then went right back to staring at Germany, his eyes smoldering and sparking. Germany couldn't help but begin digging his fingers into his gloved palms, which Canada seemed to notice.

"In the last fifty years, all of us have become more and more involved with events beyond our borders because we have seen increasingly how they affect the lives of people within our borders and how the values we espouse at home must be defended abroad." He swallowed hard, but kept going. "That is, in large measure, what we're trying to do in Kosovo. To protect the innocent families, the children, and to stand for the values that we have stood for as an organization for fifty years now. We owe a great amount of gratitude to the founders who suggested this to us, to the generation of people after the Second World War who constructed a world of freedom that stood against tyranny and that eventually helped to end the Cold War. We can best pay that debt by standing up with those values today, including meeting out responsibilities to the children in the future of Southeastern Europe, and the terrible suffering of Kosovo."

"Are you alright, Germany?" Canada muttered, leaning toward him.

Germany sat up straighter and shifted in his chair, trying his hardest not to react too significantly to Poland's... staring. "Fine for now. Just a bit... uncomfortable."

Canada nodded, then turned back to listening to America.

America looked over to NATO himself, who stood by himself with a suit jacket and a golden flower within his breast pocket. "Mister NATO, I would like to say a special word of thanks to you for your steadfast leadership, for your continuing reminder to all of us that we must both do our duty, and stay together as we do it. Tomorrow we will focus on Kosovo again, but we will also look to the larger issues of the twenty first century. Again, I compliment you on your leadership, and I thank all of our colleagues for their input." He turned back to the dinner table full of other countries. "We will look back on this summit and say 'well, it wasn't one of those traditional meetings where we got to have a lot of fun and a lot of laughs because we were so gravely concerned with the suffering of the people in the Balkans, but it was a profoundly important one, because it reminded us of why we got started. What we have to do tomorrow, and what it is that gives our alliance meaning in this present day.'" He shifted around a bit. "I would like to ask all of you to join me at a toast to NATO and its future. Thank you."

He walked back to his seat and held up his glass, which everyone stood up and began clinking wine glasses and sipping on their white wine. With a round of applause, they all sat down and listened as NATO began to speak. "Dear friends, I don't have much to say after a long day of long speeches, but I would like to say at least three things which are related to one word. And that word is thank you. Thank you to you, Mister America," NATO turned around to America and gave him a bright smile, which America returned, "for your hospitality, for your leadership, for your continuation to maintain these alliances with all the movement and all the energy that it has. Probably without your commitment from the very beginning, the situation and the development that we all together have gotten to would have been much more difficult."

Germany could see Poland's staring grow to a scowl in the corner of his eye. He felt that cold black feeling begin to swirl in his chest for the first time in years, his breathing becoming more and more shallow the more he tried to stay calm.

NATO turned back to the other members of the table. "The second word of thanks it to all of you. To the different countries of the alliance that have decided to go together not only to proclaim principles, but to defend principles. Who have proclaimed principles on many many occasions, now we are going beyond that. Proclaiming the principles, and defending the principles."

Germany's anxiety began to roll in the more Poland stared at him, somehow forgetting to check whether or not he's breathing as he dug his fingers further into his palms, and forgetting about how far he's burying his fingers into his palms.

"Germany, you need to breathe," Canada murmured, leaning back a bit to make it seem more casual. "Focus on my voice, alright? Don't pay attention to Poland. It's alright. Do you want to do more breathing exercises?"

"No," Germany whispered back, listening to Canada as he instructed. "No, I'm fine. Just keep... keep talking."

He shifted around before speaking one more time. "And a third word of thank you has to be to the men and women in uniform that, some of them at this very time, will be defending values as we are having here at this dinner. Let us remember them. And, Mister America, let me say one word about tomorrow. Tomorrow we are going to debate not only Kosovo, but also the future. And, I would like to say a word from the bottom of my heart, about how this organization, about I, have evolved. Have adapted. As many of you know, I have an interest in physics and sciences, and I know that motion is a relative concept. You move in relation to something. In that, which is true for natural sciences, this can also be applied to history, I think. An organization has to move according to the time, and it has to move faster. When history is moving fast, as it has been for these past few years, in order for an organization to be relevant, they have to move faster than history if we want to be relevant in the future."

"Alright." Canada held up his hand. "Would you like me to hold your hand as well so you have something to focus on?"

"No. Just... just keep talking, please."

"Alright." Canada rested his hands in his own lap. "Would you like to go get a drink after the dinner? This stiff air is giving me arthritis. I have never seen America so formal."

Germany smirked and hid his shaky chuckle in his hand to try and pull it off as a cough. "Don't be rude. At least your brother is trying."

"It makes him seem so unnatural, though." Canada grinned as well.

"I would like to say to all of you that you have come here, and have made me, to adapt, and that's why we are getting involved in this conflict defending values, and we are going to prevail because we have been prepared from the very beginning to take these situations rapidly, to adapt rapidly under those circumstances. To all of you, who have defended this alliance, who have taken the responsibility, thank you very very much on behalf of, not only your people, but on behalf of the people directly calling upon the alliance. Thank you very much. I think we are going to live in difficult moments, but we are going to win. No question about that. With leaders like you, people like you, there is no question that we will prevail, and the values which we are going to defend will be defended, and nothing will deter us from the problems which we are facing now. Mister America, thank you very much, and let me propose another toast," he held up his wineglass, as did everyone else within the room, "to all of you, the countries of this alliance." The countries all clinked glasses one last time and took a sip of their wine, clapping for NATO before he sat himself down next to America.

"Well, let's carry on with the dinner, shall we?" America gestured out as States and employees of his all placed plates and platters full of all kinds of delicacies, the smells filling up the room and making everyone's mouth water from them. Foods of all kinds stacking high into the air, steaming, cold, roasted, smoked, barbecued, and so on.

Germany tried to busy himself with eating, just as everyone else decided to do. He plated his pearl-white and gold plate with all kinds of foods, sampling anything and everything. Canada continued to talk with him to keep him calm and distract him from the perpetually staring Poland. America laughed and made his way around the room, making sure everyone felt comfortable and enjoyed the food, and even goofing around with some of the less serious countries. Germany tried to focus on America's antics to distract himself from Poland while Canada quietly spoke to UK next to him. Eventually, however, the urge to look overtook him. He spared a single glance over at Poland, only to find he didn't sit there anymore. He felt that black feeling settle in his chest again as he frantically glanced around, then heard a voice right next to his ear.

"Germany. What a... nice surprise."

Germany shot up straight, staring at the air in front of him as a cold shock of terror ripped at his chest.

"Mind if we go somewhere to settle some things? I have some things to ask of you." Poland's voice carried on the slightest hint of a hidden fury, one which Germany easily picked up on.

He tried his best not to react externally, his breathing slowing to a stop. "What do you wish to discuss?"

"I wanted to ask about repairing." He felt Poland lean closer, the slight warmth of Poland's breath on his shoulder making the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. "After World War Two, well... I wanted to get passed what happened between us."

"It wasn't me, Poland." Germany barely breathed at all by this point, his hands digging into his palms as he desperately tried to keep calm.

"Do you have a problem?" Canada turned back around and crossed his arms over his chest.

He felt Poland pull away and laugh. "No, no, nothing's wrong. I just wanted to talk to Germany about repairing some relations."

Germany swallowed hard as he felt a hand suddenly grasp his shoulder and squeeze it, unwanted memories flashing through his vision and causing his breathing to cancel out completely.

"Take your hand off of him." Canada stood up to his full height, towering over the both of them.

Poland immediately retracted his hand, but it didn't do much to help Germany's assault of memories. "Look, I don't mean to offend anyone, I just want to talk. I only want to talk about building relations and talking about reparations."

"Poland, just hold on a moment." Canada turned to Germany, kneeling down to him. "Germany? Germany, can you hear me?"

Germany couldn't hear. His mind spun and spiraled as screams echoed in his ear, hands tore at him, and teeth sinking into his shoulder. His chest consumed itself with black and his vision blurred together, reality and fiction blending together and confusing him, breaking down his ideas of what to focus on. He stood back in his old home in Berlin, the screaming of Russian on the other side of the door as it broke down, a green-tan uniform getting up in his face and forcing him to the ground, pinning him there as his twin screamed and kicked and struggled to get out of the other uniform's hold to help him. He screamed, but no one could hear. He screamed for his brother, but his older brother did nothing to help him. No one could help him. Hands. Hands everywhere touching him, pinning him, trapping him-

"Germany, you need to breathe."

Germany struggled to decipher who spoke to him. It didn't sound like Russian, so who spoke that? Did someone else suddenly appear in the house? What-

"Germany, you're alright now. No one is planning to hurt you. You need to breathe."

He couldn't breathe. He felt something preventing him within his lungs, and he tried the best he could. He couldn't do it. He-

"Germany, can you count with me? Just count to two with me, alright? Can you do that?"

He opened his mouth and shook as the hands clawed lower, struggling to get his lungs working. Finally, he punched the barrier open, and shakily stuttering out an "Eins."

"There you go. Can you tell me what comes after one?"

He felt his lungs close up, but he forced himself to break down the blockage to speak again. "Zwei."

"Good. You're doing good, Germany. Take a deep breath in."

Germany breathed in in segments, clutching his hands and digging his fingers into his palms.

"Now breathe out."

Germany let the air escape in puffs, one of the hands retracting themselves from him.

"Good. Good. Let's do it again, alright? Breathe in..."

Eventually, after what felt like years, he relaxed back into the chair, with people now out of the room, and Poland nowhere near his vicinity.

"Are you feeling alright?" Canada gave a small smile. "Do you need something? A glass of water?"

He shook his head and pushed himself up. "No. No, I'm alright now. I just... I just need a moment."

"Would you like to go to your hotel room? Or, do you want me to take you to a room in the White House that you can stay in? America offered." Canada laced his fingers together and rested them in his own lap.

Germany rubbed his face and looked off to the side. "I think I'll just... I'll just retreat to a room in the White House. I need a moment alone."

"Of course, I understand." Canada stood up and gestured him to follow. "Here, I'll take you."

Germany followed after Canada, gloved hands shoved into his pockets, and his head tilted toward the floor. He collapsed onto the offered bed and massaged his face with a heavy sigh, and Canada slipped out of the room to leave him alone. He looked through the drawers to find some more flowing clothing than his suit, and proceeded to put it on. He paced around the room a bit to try to gather his focus more on the task of calming down, and blocking out the negative emotions and memories. He looked over to the clock on the wall, and decided he couldn't do his nightly routine just yet. So, instead, he went off to pace around his room a bit more, and fix himself a drink.

He jolted when he heard a knock at the door. "Germany?" Ah, America, of course. Always trying to act like a savior. "Are you alright? Did something happen between you and Poland?"

Germany sighed and ran a hand down his face, sipping on his drink to calm his nerves as he opened the door for America. "Yes, I'm doing better. Poland just grabbed me a bit too harshly."

America nodded and bit his lip. "If you need anything, I can have it brought to you."

"Thank you, America. I appreciate it." Germany pushed up his glasses. "Be sure to tell Poland not to feel too upset over it. He didn't know."

America nodded stood back a bit to give Germany some space. "Just tell me if you need anything, alright? You can phone me." America tossed him a Nokia, to which Germany caught with ease. "The number's just one-seven-seven-six."

Germany snorted and shook his head. "How humble of you."

America laughed and waved him off, walking down the hall. "Just call me, will you?"

"Sure, America."

Germany closed the door and looked up at the clock again. Perhaps he should get to bed early today. After all, all of the next three days would comprise of nothing but debates and inquiries of the crumbling Yugoslavia. He might need the rest.

The next morning, he found himself eating breakfast with America, who looked even more stressed than last night - if at all possible - as he called people of all kinds. Apparently, he had set up something big for the meeting. From what Germany could hear, America planned on setting up some fancy table for the countries, though he didn't exactly know the extent of it.

"You really want to make this extravagant, don't you?"

"Of course I do! It has to run smoothly, it's the fiftieth anniversary!"

Germany simply let him do his thing, going on to get dressed in his suit once again to go to the Mellon Auditorium, in which he found, along with the rest of the countries, a gigantic pentagon-shaped table of mahogany with the middle cut out and replaced with royal blue fabric, and a red and gold compass emblem in the middle. Across the back wall, raised above the floor with a gold-etched message displaying 'North Atlantic Council' upon more wood around the platform, flags of every country hung proud in a semi-circle beneath the white and gold banner which read 'NATO 50 SUMMIT.' Flags displaying the fiftieth summit lined the walls high above them in every direction.

So this was why America was getting so worked up.

Germany settled into his designated seat at the pentagon table, leaning into his microphone and staring out over the room, countries filing in and settling into chairs behind their own microphones. NATO gave some opening statements, as did America, welcoming in the new members - Hungary, Czech Republic, and Poland - and proceeding with the debates over what to do about the current 'ethnic cleansing' happening in Kosovo. The meeting dragged on for hours, debating upon what to do about the growing bombing campaign which only gave them mixed results thus far. The debate over a continuation of the military presence, or the softening it to give Russia a chance to broker the situation. Eventually, they all dismissed for a break, and they settled into the cafeteria, where America again surprised them with more delicious food provided by the States.

Germany settled into a table all his own, watching the others, when he saw a shadow shift next to him. He looked over to find Poland settled into a seat across from him, looking a bit distraught and nervous.

"Germany, I apologize about yesterday. I never meant to cause you any harm. I didn't realize such an action would affect you like that." Poland had his hands clasped together, white and red staring up at black and gold. "I didn't mean to disrespect you in any way. I have a natural inclination to be more..." he let out a nervous chuckle, "more touchy, I guess. I didn't realize that I could have, u-uh..." he pulled at his suit jacket, fumbling with his words to try and come up with something to say.

Germany rested his hand on the table in front of Poland to get his attention. "Poland, it's alright now. You didn't know, and there is no reason to try to justify yourself." He fixed his glasses and stared down at the table. "I'm the one who should be sorry."

"What for?" Poland shifted around in his seat. "You didn't do anything to me."

"My family tore you in two." Germany looked up at Poland, digging his fingers into the palm of his hands. "I can't forgive myself for something so dastardly of my family name."

Poland shook his head. "No. That wasn't you personally, was it? It was your brother, right?"

Germany sighed and shoved his face into his gloved hands. "That does not give me an excuse. I carry the same name, so I carry the same burden."

"Germany, no, I don't blame you. I don't blame you at all." Poland rested his chin on the back of his propped up hands, probably to keep them from reaching out and touching Germany again. "I didn't mean to hurt you in any way, shape, or form. I just wanted to ask if you wanted to build relations. I shouldn't have been so forward with my touching." Germany felt the table rhythmically shake, probably from Poland fidgeting or tapping his leg against the floor. "I'm not the best with boundaries, and I should probably work on that. A lot. I really do feel a bit guilty for causing you so much suffering."

"There's... there's no need to worry yourself over that, Poland. It was my fault for-"

"No, Germany, it wasn't." Poland reached out to take Germany's hand, but stopped himself halfway and pulled it back. "Germany... Germany, I want you to know that I don't blame you for what your brother did. You are a different person from your brother, even if you came from the same family."

Germany looked away. "I can't bring myself to believe that."

"Why don't... Why don't I take you out for a drink? I mean, we can't go to many places, but I'm sure we can go somewhere."

Germany sighed slowly and tapped at his lips with a single gloved finger. "Maybe. Clear some air, yeah?"

Poland smiled and nodded. "Yeah. Yeah. Let's do it. Uh, I can ask America about some places to go, yeah? Is that alright? I can-"

Germany held up his hand and Poland immediately stopped talking. "I can ask America about it, alright? I'm sure he'll give us an option or two." Germany put his hand down and smiled brighter.

"Thank you, Germany. I really wanna make it up to you. I wanna make things better between us. You know? I wanna stop this tension and stuff, and I wanna fix this stiffness. You know?"

Germany smiled and nodded. "Any time, Poland. Let's go talk to America, alright?"

"Uh, yeah. Yeah, let's uh... yeah. Let's do that." Poland shifted and fidgeted in his seat. "We can do that. Yeah."

Germany smiled and stood up. "I'll be right back, alright? I'll go ask America." Germany patted the table, then walked to America, who now had a drink in his hand and a bright grin on his face as he spoke with Canada, France, and UK. He saw Canada brighten, then the others turned to see him.

"Germany! How was your food? Did you enjoy it?" America gestured him to sit down in an empty chair. "Come on, sit down."

Germany shook his head. "No thank you. I just wished to ask if you could give me a nice place to have a drink. Poland is requesting a less... formal meeting."

America hummed and looked over at the table where Poland fidgeted and shifted in his seat. He bit his lip, then turned back to Germany. "I can take you to the bar, it-"

"America, I'll be alright. Just tell me where to go, and I'll go." Germany pulled at his gloves. "Poland wouldn't try to intentionally hurt me, he's apart of NATO. Don't worry." He hesitated a moment before patting America's shoulder. "It's alright. You can give me a location, and I'll tell you if anything goes south, which I know it won't."

America bit her lip a bit harder, then nodded. "Alright. Would you like a cafe, or a real bar? There's a cafe that's closer. A lot prettier as well."

"The cafe might be nice. A calmer atmosphere."

"Alright, great. Just walk down Constitution Avenue Northwest - go down to the left. Keep going past the museums, and then you'll see a wall of hedges and a pathway on your right. Go down the path, and you'll see a building with green metal like branches and windows. It's called 'Pavilion Cafe.'"

Germany smiled and nodded, then turned back to the direction of Poland. "Thank you, America. I'll make sure to contact you."

"Any time!"

Germany stood next to Poland with a smile. "Let's go out and have a drink, alright? I know where to go."

Poland sprang to his feet. "Oh, right. Yeah, let's uh... yeah, let's do it."

Germany chuckled and rested his hands in his pockets. "Let's walk. We can talk along the way, since it's not that far from here."

The two slipped out of the building and walked down the road in the fog of the afternoon. At first, they walked in a tensioned silence. Germany had his hands in his suit pockets, and Poland fidgeted and crossed his arms. Then, Germany tried to break the silence.

"So, how is your stay here so far? The West is definitely a different ball game than the East." He chuckled and pulled at his gloves. "I remember my first time staying here. People act so different here."

"Oh, thank God, I thought I was the only one that thought the West was weird." Poland sighed, and Germany laughed.

"Don't worry, you have nothing to worry about. It's definitely different here."

Germany fixed his glasses and walked down the street, strolled past the Greek-esque museums. Poland seemed a bit more relaxed, talking about a few small things with Germany, and both of them eventually reaching the Pavilion Cafe about ten or so minutes later. They both settled into a small table, where a waiter tended to them and brought them cups of coffee for them to sip on. Poland looked just as freaked out about the overly friendly and tending waiter as Germany felt just four decades ago, and he couldn't help but chuckle. They eventually got their cups of coffee, and Germany tried to shift the conversation back to the reason they came in the first place.

"So, what do you wish to speak about?"

Poland's demeanor immediately turned to a much more anxious one, one where fidgeted and looked off to the side. "I... I don't really know. I just wanted to know how to fix our relationship."

Germany nodded and twirled a pen in between his fingers. "I'm sure we can find something out."

Poland nodded and fidgeted. "Y- Uh... yeah. Yeah, that makes... yeah. Let's do that."

Germany patted the table. "We can repair our relations. It might take a bit of time from both ends. But, I think we can fix this."

"Yeah, I th... yeah, that works. Yeah."

Germany sipped on his coffee and Poland shakily did the same. "We can work something out, Poland. Don't worry. We can work something out between us."

Poland stuttered out responses, looking more nervous than ever. Germany couldn't help but feel a bit empathetic, and maybe like he caused this, for him, and he tried his best to reassure him.

"Why don't we make it back to the meeting? I'm sure the others are waiting for us." He stood up and gestured for Poland to follow.

"Right. We should go. And do that. Yeah." Poland cleared his throat and scrambled to walk after Germany.

Germany looked over to him and rested his hands in his pockets. "So, what is the little star pin for?"

"Oh, I u-uh..." Poland let a little chuckle escape him, "I really enjoy learning about Space. I want to... I want to make it up there some day."

"Oh really? What interests you about Space?" Germany looked over at him, and he saw those white and red eyes brighten with excitement. Bingo.

"I really like... I like seeing all of the ways the universe forms itself. I like looking at the colours and the structures and the types of stars and planets. I like to think that I could travel through Space someday." Poland fidgeted and tried to calm his anxiety by shoving his hands into his pockets. "I want to know more about Space. Space travel and things."

"That's an interesting dream you have." Germany looked out into the distance.

"Thank you. It's been a dream of mine for..." he rubbed the back of his neck and chuckled, "oh, I don't even know. Years."

"It's a nice one." Germany pushed open the doors to the auditorium and turned back to Poland. "You should pursue it."

"You think so?"

Germany nodded and walked to the cafeteria. "Space is a very admirable dream. Maybe we'll start to colonize extraterrestrially."

"Yeah, uh... yeah. I hope so."

Germany opened the door to the cafeteria, and let Poland walk in.

"We should do this some time in the future, Poland."

Poland jolted and looked up at Germany. "Really? Do you mean it?"

Germany nodded and smiled. "Yes, I really mean it." He started writing down his number on a little slip of paper, then gave it to Poland. "Here. Take this."

Poland hesitated a moment before taking the paper, making sure not to touch Germany's hand, and stuffing it in his breast pocket. "Thank you. I'll be sure to call you."

"Good." Germany smiled and, with a moment's hesitation, brought his hand up and patted Poland's shoulder just once before retracting his hand. "I look forward to seeing you in a more casual circumstance."

"Y-You too." Poland smiled, then ducked into the cafeteria.

Germany watched after him, his arms crossed over his chest and a smile resting on his face. Maybe he could mend relations with Poland. Who knows? Maybe it could work. Only time will tell.


	9. Shapeshifting Story Idea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is an idea I've been thinking about for a while. Let me know what you guys think, and I might turn it into a separate book if you're interested! If I ever end up making the book, I will provide the link to it (Keep in mind, this will not be romance-based, but more story-based because of the nature of the story). Also, sorry this is so short. I didn't want to give too much away in case I do actually turn this into a story later.

America held his head down toward the ground he kneeled on, barely moving against the metal cuffs and chains keeping his neck bound to his hands, or his wings outstretched and behind his back, or ankles against the floor. He didn’t care that his once proudly sewn clothing now came undone around him, or that his appearance looked like one of a weaker country, or even that he didn’t have his sunglasses on. He only had grief in mind, and a burning vengeance upon his conscience.

He heard the screech of metal doors in front of him, then the clicking of boots against the ground which got closer to him, until he saw those same black boots at the edge of his vision. He inched his head up to look at the one above him, black robes and glistening black and blood red armor around the man who stood there with a two-handed axe within one hand and black wings extended out in either direction.

“What do you want?” America muttered, not a trace of emotion behind a single word.

“I have come to ask of your assistance, seeing as you have nothing left to give anyone else.” The axe tapped against the ground, and the cuffs tightened around his neck, restricting his air flow and forcing his neck to a straighter position. He felt something grab his hair, then yank up his head, making him look directly into the freezing blood red eyes above him. “I need you for a favor.”

“And?” America’s dull silver eyes stared up in disinterest. “Why should I be inclined to help you in any way after what you have done to me?”

The man chuckled as freezing eyes brightened with an eerie glint of mischief. “I want to rectify your loss.”

America shifted in his chains and cuffs, causing the metal to clink and shimmer. “There’s no way to fix it.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure.” The man stood back up with the axe still propped up. “I have someone who may be able to right the wrongs that have been forced upon you.”

“Then what is it? You have nothing you can do to fix what happened. No one has ever summoned that level of power.”

“I have my ways.”

The man looked back and called something out in another language, in which the metal double doors pushed open, and another man - this one much more massive than any other Shifter he had ever seen - walked into the room. His bear and tribal tattoos glowed a crimson red while his eyes burned a fiery gold. America sat up straighter at the sudden clash of energies and stared right at the one approaching, watching his robes of gold and tan flow behind him before stopping right in front of him.

“America, I would like you to meet a colleague of mine.” The first one patted a hand up against the new one’s chest, which he could barely reach. “This is Union of Soviet Socialist Republics, or more commonly, Soviet. He’s the one who can help you right your many wrongs.”

America’s gold-grey-brown wings tried to flare as an instinctive form of intimidation, but the cuffs holding him in place prevented him from doing so. “And how does he plan to do that? There’s no way to prove he can hold that kind of power.”

“Don’t be too sure, tiny one.” Soviet took a step forward and loomed over America, which he didn’t bat an eye at.

“I am not tiny. I know just as much as everyone else that you can hold no such power. No one could ever do such a thing.”

“Why don’t I prove it to you, then?” Soviet held up his hand and a spark of gold and red flashed in the air above it, to which America could see into it. He saw… He saw…

America growled and strained against the already uncomfortably tight metal bonds keeping him down. “Don’t you  _dare_ show me such images. You don’t have any  _right_  to manipulate them that way.”

“Oh, a reaction. So he  _does_  still feel.” The first man chuckled and ran his thumb across the blade of his axe, his midnight black wings fluttering with a sick sort of gratification.

“It is no form of manipulation.” Soviet kneeled down in front of him and brought the picture closer to him. “This can be your reality. You can gain everything back that you lost. You can bring back all that fell ill to the hold of the one who wronged us all. This can be your reality.  _Our_  reality.”

“And why should I trust anything you tell to me? You have given me no indication of your power other than the mirage you placed in front of me.” America pulled and shifted in his chains. “I do not follow frauds - especially one of this caliber - so  _readily_.”

The first man sighed and shook his head, his hands rested on the butt of his axe. “Unfortunately, it’s true. You are too stubborn and distrusting to allow such a miraculous claim to connect itself to you at any expense.” The first man’s wings flapped excitedly behind him as he straightened and looked down at America. “That is why we have come up with a way to solve this. A contract.”

“A ‘contract’?” America tried to flick his wings. “You cannot seriously think me that gullible, can you?”

“Of course not. That’s why we negotiate, yes?” The man tapped his axe against the ground, and the chains and cuffs melted to the floor as though paper in water. “We wouldn’t want you to felt left out for any reason.”

America’s wings slumped to the floor by his sides while he rubbed at his red-marked wrists, the aching pain finally slowing to a stop in his wings. He stood up to his full height, yet still only came up to Soviet’s upper chest. “Then what is it you request? You want compensation for this magic trick of yours, don’t you?”

“Only for your cooperation.” Soviet stood back as the first man took out a paper with pen writing upon it.

“You may read this and think it over as many times as you want. We don’t wish to rush you. After all, we are only thinking of  _your_ future.”

America glanced between Soviet and the first man, unable to shake away the uneasy feeling at the back of his mind as he took hold of the paper. He looked at them a moment longer before turning back to the paper in his hands, reading through the cursive written there. A contract, of course. It detailed of his involvement, his terms of service, and his working term. Should he accept the offer, they guaranteed the restoration of that which he lost. Every single one of them. All fifty five.

He read over it a few times, trying to run through any kinds of loopholes they could offer, such as overworking, vague details about the job, and so on, until he came down to just one instance.

“It never details what I am accomplishing. Only that I will be called upon by the both of you when you need me. What is it that I’m working on?”

“You will be doing any sort of service work we require of you. We know of your unrivaled fighting abilities, and we wanted to use that for all of us. We have the tactical advantage,” the man gestured to himself, “the raw power,” he then gestured to Soviet, “and of course, the unmatched skill. Together, all of us combined? We could take down anyone who stands in our way.”

“And who is standing in our way, exactly?” America folded his arms, wings flapping slightly behind him due to his suspicion.

“Why, the ones who wanted to take the powers for themselves. Hide them away and leave you to suffer.” The man chuckled. “Did you know that your old man Britain tried to initiate an attack upon your territory? Right after your precious-”

“Don’t say his name,” America snapped, flames flicking within his eyes and between his fingers.

“Of course. My apologies.”

Soviet stood back and held out a hand, his fingernails sharpened, and grinning, his teeth with two pairs of fangs - one on his top and bottom jaw. “Join us, my friend. I’m sure we can bring your lost ones back. If we work together, not only will we make what happened to you right, but also restore your livelihood and resume territorial peace.”

America looked down at the outstretched hand, then to Soviet’s burning golden eyes. He hesitated a moment before reaching out, then grasping Soviet’s hand, red and silver mixing in a dangerous harmony across both their tattoos. A mark of silver stayed within Soviet’s hand, as well as a gash of scarlet within America’s. America then turned to the other man, who held out the hand with no marks of scarlet within the black tattoos. He grabbed the man’s hand, then black and silver danced in battle, before marks of silver and black danced in each of their arms. All three now bore the unbreakable promise of alliance, one on each arm for the other two members.

The first man sighed and brushed off his black cloth. “The powers of the three strongest men in the world, brought together by a single pact.”

America fluttered his wings and took a step back. “I shall be in my territory. Call if you desire my presence.” With a flash of bright white flame, he took off into the sky as a Bald Eagle, cawing into the sky and flying off to the territory he owned. Behind him, he could hear the caw of another eagle, as well as the roar of a bear, which grew quieter and quieter the further he flew away.

He landed upon the scorched ground of his territory and transformed back, staring up into the palace he built for himself and his family. It connected trees, lakes, cliffaces, ponds, and caves all into one single identity, somehow working as an organized chaos. He transformed back to his original form and walked inside the grand archway, his wings dragging through the soft grass behind him, his head hung low, and his posture slouched and just tired. He palmed open the doors and trudged up the stairs to his room at the highest point of the tallest tree, where he perched at the edge of his balcony and stared out into the ocean beyond the shimmering borders far below him, the clear water now bathed in black.

“Hold on,” he found himself whispering, staring up into the heavens, and past the stars. “Hold on just a little longer. I may have a way to bring you back. Just hold on.”

...

America stood with his silvery armor now repaired, and his robes of navy blue now flowing behind him as he held the silver tomahawk within his hand, flames and runes sparking off of it as he perched upon the cliffside, staring out into the world below him which laid unaware of his presence. He flared out his wings behind him, spanning them to their full length, and launching into the sky. He raised his tomahawk into the air, bright red flames pouring in from the black skies and painting the world below him with an ominous dark red. He watched as small figures scrambled out of their small homes within the rival territory, clinging to each other and staring up at him with their miniscule faces. With one last call to any deity within the universe begging him for forgiveness for this next crime, he aimed his tomahawk for the middle of the village. He squeezed his eyes shut, unable to bear looking down as he threw the tomahawk with all his might. A few seconds later, he heard agonized screams, and the flareup of flames which consumed the ground and took the lives of many. He hid within the embrace of his wings, retreating from the scene and into the forest behind them. He hated doing this, but... but the prospect of finally gaining back what he lost...

He poked his head out of his wings and looked down at the now silent village. He hesitated a moment before getting up and swooping down to land in the middle of the scorched and charred ground. He took hold of his tomahawk, the bright colors swirling within the indents and windows of the metal as a gateway to the souls he forcefully took. He stepped away and cradled the tomahawk close, muttering how everything was going to be okay, and that this would all end soon for all of them. Don't worry. Don't worry.


	10. British America - M

WARNING: THE FOLLOWING CHAPTER CONTAINS SENSITIVE TOPICS SUCH AS PEDOPHILIA, ABUSE, AND TRAUMATIC THEMES. IF YOU CANNOT READ THESE TOPICS WITHOUT TRIGGERING PAST EXPERIENCES, THIS CHAPTER IS NOT FOR YOU.

...

America stood in the kitchen, his hands shaking as he made his father's morning tea. After the end of mother and father's row last night with his mother's new ally, he knew his father couldn't tolerate anymore nonsense. Especially from him, even if he helped his father in the fight at the - failed - promise of a bigger room in the house, which now belonged to Canada instead. He scrambled to make his father's tea, anxiously awaiting with wide eyes for the leaves to steep properly in the teapot.

He heard his father's bedroom door open down the hallway.

"British America."

He felt a sharp pang of fear at the name, his hands clasped together and his silvery eyes shining with panic. His father's voice sounded neutral once when called by his actual name, which he knew meant nothing could go well for him at this point.

"Yes, sir?" He answered, his voice wavering no matter how much he tried to stop it.

He felt a white gloved hand rest upon his shoulder, which he struggled not to flinch at. "Is my tea ready yet?"

"One more minute, sir."

He felt the gloved hand slightly curl into his shoulder for a split second, the air growing thicker with each passing moment. "One more minute?" The question sounded more like a statement.

"Yes sir."

His father let out a slow sigh - one which he knew meant disappointment, but for what, he didn't know. And that's exactly what scared him.

He stared at the pearly white teapot and the darkening water within it, his panic growing colder and colder the more his father stayed silent. He felt his father look down at the teapot, leaning down against his back to do so, then straighten up again after a few moments. To his bittersweet relief, he felt the hand retract from his shoulder, then steps retreating back in the direction of his father's room.

"I expect you in my room in a minute. And this time, don't be late." He heard the door close with a click.

He let out a shaky sigh and ran his hands over his face, staring down at the teapot with tears stinging at his eyes. Why couldn't his father just ignore him like he used to? Just give him money, then send him to his closet of a room. Ever since he turned thirteen...

He shook his head and rubbed his face, sniffling and taking the tea bag out before placing the lid back on, preparing the milk, and setting down the sugar. He placed everything, along with the rest of the tea set, onto a tray and made his way to his father's room. He pushed open the door and set the tray down on the small table in the middle of the separate, nook-like, rounded section of his room, straining himself to not look at his father, who he knew stared straight at him. He heard shifting on the bed, then a few more steps on the floor, followed by that same gloved hand on his shoulder, which dug much further into his skin this time.

"Pour me a cup. No sugar, and a touch of milk."

Now he really knew nothing good could possibly happen today. Even so, he continued pouring, tipping the teapot so the dark liquid filled the small cup exactly half full, then added the tiniest touch of milk to make it two thirds. He felt his father's grip slowly release, then settled into the chair on his left, taking up both the saucer and the cup and sipping on it.

"The tea is much better crafted today." His father set the ceramics down.

"Thank you, sir."

His father looked up at him, but he kept his head down and avoided his father's gaze. "I need you to do a favour for me."

He swallowed hard as he saw his father's hand move up, then felt it rest on his lower back and push him closer so to better pull him down onto his father's lap.

"I'm sure you know what favour I'm asking of, yes?"

He felt tears prick at his eyes as he nodded, his legs involuntarily closing tight against one another when he felt his father's hand on his side.

"As you know, last night with your mother turned out... a bit rougher than I intended it to." He felt the silk of the white glove caress his skin of his side under his shirt. "I have some... left over frustrations I wish to rid myself of. And since your mother isn't here right now, well," he chuckled, "I have to resort to using  _you_." He felt the fingers dig into his side, pain shocking up his spine. "Disgraceful, disgusting,  _little_  you." His father shoved him off in the direction toward the bed, causing him to stumble a step or two. "Now get on that bloody bed. I need to finish my tea."

He sat himself on the bed, his hands shaking as tears streamed down his face, reaching for the hem of his shirt and pulling it over his head, then gripping his waistband.

-

America limped his way up the stairs, bearing angry red lines across his skin, dark purple splotches on his cheek and wrists, dried white streams irritating his legs, and the occasional scratch here and there leaking a now dark maroon. He had no tears left to cry and a scratchy throat, left feeling nothing but disgust and helplessness.

He trudged into the bathroom as per his father's request, turning on the water to the hottest setting before going back to his room and grabbing some clothes. He decided on a black long-sleeved shirt and a pair of dark jeans, not wanting to draw any more attention than his father wanted on him. To hide his bruised cheek and silvery eyes his father hated so, he also grabbed some dark sunglasses, then set them on top of his clothes and took them to the bathroom before he shut the door behind him.

He took off what little clothing he had on left, then stepped into shower water, which felt like it melted the skin off his bones. He hissed at it in the beginning, standing rigid in place with his eyes squeezed shut, easing up as the pain slowly crawled away, along with the disgust and discontentment as the feeling of his father's hands lifted off him. He stood under the stream while his hands reached out for the bottle of body wash in the corner, his movements robotic and lacking any emotion while he stared forward in silence.

He heard a soft knock at the door, then a click as it opened. "America?" He heard Canada mutter.

He set down the bottle and began cleaning out his hair, then ran over his cuts, ignoring the stinging pain as the soap burrowed into them. "Mhm?"

"He... he didn't... do it again, did he?"

He didn't say anything in return this time, washing off the soap from his wounds.

"America, I'm-"

"It's not your fault, Canada, it never was." He splashed some water into his face, the hot water nipping at his bruises and eyes. "Just... get ready for school. Father wouldn't want you to miss the bus."

He heard Canada open a drawer and pop open his toothpaste lid, then a few seconds of silence before he began brushing his teeth.

"... Russia and the others miss you," he started, his voice distorted by his toothbrush and the bubbly mess in his mouth. "They want you to come to school today."

He sighed and squeezed a little bit more of the body wash into his hands, then scrubbed over himself one more time before shutting off the water and drying himself off with a towel draped over the bar holding up the curtain. "Canada, you know I can't. Not right now. Not like... this."

" _Please_." He heard Canada spit into the sink. "Look,  _I'll_ stay for a day, just-"

" _No_ ," he snapped, " _not_  you. I can handle it for a lot longer than you can. Just... just go to school."

"America, it's been  _three weeks_. And now with mom and her new boyfriend in Louisiana-"

" _Drop it_ , Canada." He grabbed his clothes off the ledge and draped his towel on the floor. "I already know mom's gone."

He heard Canada clean off his toothbrush and shove it back in the drawer. "I  _can't_ , America. I don't want your life to be confined to a closet, a kitchen, a corner, and a bed."

"I said  _drop it_!" He threw open the curtain and gripped at Canada's upper arm, his silvery eyes burning. "Did you hear me?  _Drop it_! I don't want father-"

"Keep your voice down," a voice snapped from downstairs, causing him to flinch violently. "Canada, you need to get ready for school." He heard the voice soften as he spoke the last sentence, the change causing him to glare at the air in front of him as though his father stood right there.

"Alright, Dad," Canada replied, still looking up at him as he let go of Canada.

"Yes, sir."

He pushed past Canada and walked to his room, sliding on his sunglasses.

"Oh, and boy, I need you pay a higher renting fee. I'm sure you won't mind paying extra for your tea."

"Yes sir."

He quietly clicked closed his bedroom door as he heard the front door slam, swiping his phone from the nightstand and waking it. He bit his lip as he pulled up his messages and texted the group chat, tapping at his leg.

_Hey again looks like I have to stay home_

He saw a little message next to his text bar display 'Russia is typing...' then Japan, Germany, and even the ever inactive Poland.

_Again???_

_You had told us you would come today._

_U told us u could go 2 school 2day_

_Y_

He tapped at his phone with one hand as his other hand scratched at his bruised and bitten shoulder.

_Have to still sick_

He saw Canada start typing, then Russia and Japan.

_America, you have to stop it at some point._

_What r u even sick with?_

_I apologize for your predicament, America._

He looked up the name to know for sure whether or not he spelled it right.

_Pneumonia I think_

He got a separate text from Canada.

_I'm telling them today._

America felt a spark of panic.

_No u can't Canada u can't do that do u not realize what that would do to us_

_Do you not realize that being dad's slave and having no education is taking away your life? I can't watch you suffer anymore because you follow dad's every order without a single bit of self-preservation in mind!_

_U say that like u don't know that if I don't do this he'll just do it worse until I'm crippled and useless_

A moment of hesitation from Canada.

_I'm still going to tell them._

_U do that and I'll never forgive u_

_That's a risk I'm willing to take._

He stared in shock and horror as he saw his brother's icon blip offline, followed by Russia, Japan, Germany, and Poland. He slowly put his phone down, staring at the far wall as he felt panic drown out all his other senses, his blood rushing in his ears and his breathing rapid.

They'll all know. They'll know. His father will find out, and he'll sure as Hell he won't live to see the next day.

"Boy!" He heard his father shout.

He sprang to his feet, struggling to control his breathing. "Y-Yes sir?"

"What have I told you about leaving dishes in the sink!?"

He flinched and scrambled to get downstairs. "Y-Yes sir, you've told me many time, sir, it won't happen again, sir."

"That's what I thought, you degenerate filth." His father stared after him as he nearly tripped his way into the kitchen and started up the sink, where he began cleaning the dishes set in there.

"Yes sir."

"I expect the chores of the home finished by noon. Should they not, well..." he heard the familiar snap of leather ahead of him. "I'm sure you know what follows."

"Yes sir."

His father took a step toward him. "You know, if you didn't force me to do this, everything would be so much easier for both of us. You could have friends around you, a loving family, and so much more." He felt a white gloved hand on his shoulder again, which sent a shiver of disgust up his spine as he washed each dish with the utmost care. "If you had just agreed to stay here instead of asking your...  _mother_  for a favour, none of this pain would be happening to you." The way his father called his mother with such pure disdain almost matched his own for his father. "I'm simply helping you, don't you see?"

"Yes sir."

His father hummed and patted his shoulder. "Good. I expect them to be done, then." With that, his father retreated back to his room.

He dried each dish and put them away, sprinting off to get the mop from the pantry.

-

He slumped onto his torn up mattress and panted, his entire body riddled with even more stains, scratches, and bruises than earlier in the day. True to his word, he finished all of the house chores before noon, but only with two minutes to spare. A stroke of luck in a sea of bad omens, he supposed. So he laid there, face down with his now tattered shirt and jeans, trying to catch some sleep before his father inevitably called him back once again.

He shot upright when he heard a ring at the door from under his bedroom floor. He stayed in his room, afraid of someone on the other side seeing him and asking his father why he looked like a homeless wreck and didn't sit in a classroom. He heard the door open, then his father's voice.

"Ah, Italy. How have you been? The North Africans treating you well?"

Laughter rang out from his father and another, probably Italy. "Yes actually. I heard what happened to you and France. Is there anything you need help with?"

"I just need some more information on France and her new  _indigenous_  relationship."

"Oh, you mean the one who lives in the rest of the New World? Rumor has it they're in her Louisiana territory. Some town called New Orleans from what I hear. Courtesy of Spain, of course."

"Of course. Can I offer you anything? Some wine, tea, biscuits...?"

"No no. No, I'm alright. Thank you."

"Suit yourself." Steps made their way to the kitchen.

A buzzing in his lap snapped his attention to his phone, which now greeted him with over a hundred messages.

He swallowed hard and opened up his phone, clicking on messages and taking a moment to mentally prepare himself for the barrage of texts. He hovered his thumb over the bar with the group chat name for a little longer than probably necessary, then finally allowed himself to tap it. He scrolled up to the newest message, trying to keep from looking at some of the writing before he could see it from the beginning.

And immediately regretted it.

_АМЕРИКА!!!_

_MEIN GOTT, ANTWORT UNS!!!_

_AMERYKA!_

_センペイNO！_

He scrolled down for what felt like hours, messages asking if he felt okay, if he still hurt, if they should call the police, and so on, which only halted between what he assumed meant passing periods, or the teacher harping on them for not participating in class. Finally, he got to the bottom, and the sight made his heart lurch.

_We are coming over after school._

His breathing picked up as he threw his phone to his bed, scrambling to find something clean to put on. Since the school got out early on Fridays, he only had an hour and a half to fix himself, coat himself with makeup, and make his father his afternoon tea. He threw off his ripped up clothes and pulled on his black v-neck, then slid on his ripped black jean pants, sprinting to the bathroom as silently as possible, pulling open the drawer and priming his face before patting his face with foundation and pounds of concealer. He got around his eyes, down his arms, along his legs, and finally across his hands. He checked his appearance many times in the mirror, turning this way and that to make sure he got every bruise, cut, and slit before finally making his way downstairs, finding Italy gone with his father holding a newspaper in his gloved hand.

"Good timing." He looked up, arching a brow at him. "What's got you acting like a drag queen, hm?"

"Canada's friends are coming over after school, sir."

His father hummed and went back to reading. "How unfortunate. I see you're at least timely with your schedule. Touch of milk, and a sugar."

"Yes sir."

He moved into the kitchen and held the kettle under the faucet, spraying in the water into it and swiveling around to set it on the stove, flicking on the burner, and sighing as he laid against the counter. He heard his father flip the page of the newspaper, feeling his father's eyes burn into his back as he watched the kettle heat up over the cyan-blue fire beneath it. He pulled at his fingers as he heard the screaming silence run throughout the house, hiding his face in his hands. He curled into himself, taking a slow breath to get his emotions in check and fixing his faux-sona into place.

He watched as steam blew from the neck of the kettle with a quieter scream, pouring the boiling water into six different tea cups, then placing in tea bags to each one. He counted off in his head, leaning back as he watched each cup, then swiped out Canada's tea bag when two minutes hit. At three minutes, he plucked out Poland, Russia, Japan, and Germany's. And finally, at four minutes, he took out his father's. A splash of milk, a sugar, and at exactly 13:30, he placed the teacup and saucer in front of his father.

He watched as his father took up the tea and sipped on it, humming and going back to reading the paper. "Those teas are coming out of your pay, boy."

He felt his heart drop, but refused to say anything but a quiet, "Yes sir."

He heard his father sigh and stand up, then walk back toward his room. "I need you after the visit, boy. I'm sure you know what I mean, yes?"

"Yes sir."

"Good. As soon as they leave." Then, the door clicked shut.

Not a minute later, the front door slammed open, and five pairs of footsteps stampeded their way into the kitchen. Canada came in first, staring at him, then the teacups on the platter, bright orange eyes somehow darkening. Next rushed in Russia, then Germany, Poland, and finally Japan.

He displayed his cockiest grin and fixed his sunglasses. "Well, hello there. Mind telling me why you guys ran in here like a bunch of banshees?"

Japan took hold of both his hands and stared at him, her usually cold demeanor breaking down just a bit. "America, what is it that troubles you? Have you been hurt as your brother claims?"

He blinked and looked down at Japan, frowning a bit as he patted her back. "Uh... no. I'm fine. What gave you the impression I was hurt?"

He could feel Canada's rage and disappointment in him from across the room.

"America, we cannot help if you refuse to let us know the true intentions of your father."

A tensioned silence fell over the room, Poland, Germany, and Russia standing by awkwardly as Canada scowled at him while Japan hugged him as close as possible.

"I'm fine, Japan." He tried to pull away from her, holding her arms and grinning. "See? I don't have a scratch on me."

Japan stared at him, her eyes flickering over him with an unreadable expression, before she stood back. "How do I know you are not lying?"

"Wouldn't say I'm fine if I wasn't." He turned over to the others, laying across the counter. "How have you guys been? Oh, the tea's for you guys, so have at it. Canada, the lightest tea is yours."

Russia and Germany both stared at him with the analytical expressions they always had, and Poland had tears pricking his eyes.

"So," Germany started slowly.

"Alright, let's not kid ourselves." Russia's hands slammed down on the counter, causing a sharp shot of adrenaline to shock through him, which he could see Poland and Japan now watch him much more intently. "You don't have pneumonia. You don't have a single sign."

He tried to answer, but Germany cut in as well. "And you're wearing makeup."

"I'm not a drag queen," he muttered, crossing his arms and looking away. "So obviously I'm not going to wear makeup."

"Then how do you explain," Germany hopped over the counter and gripped his arm, easily wiping away one of the many spots of concealer, making him flinch when the cut got more agitated than before, "this? Hm?"

"It's nothing." He yanked away his arm and walked toward the stairs. "Look, I get it. You want to help or whatever. But, trust me when I say you  _can't_  do anything." He turned to face the others, who all stared at him with varying degrees of sadness and anger. "Just leave it be. This is much bigger than all of you. You wouldn't understand. None of you would understand. And if father finds out that you know, he'll  _kill_  me. Do you understand that now, Canada? He'll  _kill_  me. If he ever finds out anyone knows, I'm gone. Dead.  _Lost_. Nothing could ever bring me back. No amount of begging can budge me from my decision. I need to be alive to keep my brother safe. I need to stay alive to take the brunt of the punishment meant for me, and not for my brother. It is my duty to take this. And if I can't fulfill that, then I can't live upon this planet. Do you understand now? Do you?"

He stared at the others who now stood in silence.

"Then leave what you don't understand alone. Don't even think about telling someone, or something might happen to all of us. Every single one."

...

America felt those white gloves caress across his neck and trace along his shoulder while he and his father stood in line for some sort of items his father wished to buy within the mall. He forced himself to stay still as they stood there, trying his best not to react as his father's gloves ran under his shirt and traced along the bite mark still scabbing over.

"I will need your help when we get home," his father muttered into his ear, leaning down to do so, resulting in his father's chest pressing against his shoulder.

He swallowed and nodded, his hands shoved into his pockets to keep him from outwardly reacting. Behind him, he heard a powerful, commanding voice speaking lowly to someone else, speaking in a language which held the sound of  beauty through strength. His father immediately retracted the gloved hand and kept it over his shirt, but never left his shoulder. Then, another voice, this one more cool and soft, spoke back, exchanging between themselves before going silent.

"Excuse me," the more powerful voice called, sounding both concerned and commanding at the same time.

America heard his father sigh in annoyance and turned back around, staring up at the one who called for him. "What do you wish from me  _this_  time?"

"I only wish to ask if you planned to get your son treated for his wound upon his arm. It looks rather infected." The voice sounded like a concerned dad.

"Yes, that is what we are here to get. Some antibiotics and pain medication," his father answered, turning back around and still keeping a hand on his shoulder all the while.

"Ah. Of course. My apologies."

"America," he heard someone whisper. Russia?

He didn't chance looking back at the one asking for him, no matter how much he wanted to ask.

"America," Russia called again.

He told himself he couldn't risk getting on his father's side as much as he already had.

"Don't answer it, boy," he heard his father mutter, just loud enough for him to hear, yet quiet enough to prevent Russia from eavesdropping.

"Yes sir," he whispered back, bunching the cloth of his shirt in between his hands.

He heard the two voices begin talking again behind him as he and his father reached the front of the line. He felt his father finally retract the gloved hand from his shoulder, speaking to the woman behind the counter with tame hand gestures and a kiss to the back of the woman's hand.

"America," Russia whisper-shouted.

He heard the other voice speak to Russia, and they both went silent. He waited for his father to stop with his 'gentlemanly' flirting so they could get the... 'medicine' for his father. While his father spoke, he felt a surprise pat to his shoulder, which made him jump and flinch back. His father, of course, didn't react, and instead kept talking with the desk woman, even leaning against the counter.

"I apologize, little one," the one with the powerful voice started, much quieter than before. "Does your arm hurt?"

He glanced up at his father, then chanced a moment to look behind him. Towering over him stood the all powerful USSR, looking at him with warm golden eyes. Despite the concern in those inviting eyes, he couldn't look up without a spark of terror blinking in his chest. Even so, he did his best to not show any of it, displaying a smile halfway between a grin and a smirk. "Course not, why would it?"

USSR looked down to Russia, and Russia answered something in a different language. USSR nodded, then looked back down at him. "I just ask because you hold your arm like it's in a lot of pain. Would you like some sort of medicine to hold you over?"

He shook his head and moved his hands to his pockets. "No need if I don't feel anything."

"You know, my son has just asked if you could join him at our home. Would you enjoy that?"

He glanced back at his father. "I don't think my father would appreciate it."

"Of course. May I speak to him, then?"

...

The door opened almost too fast for him to comprehend, even scaring him a bit as he clutched at his bag.

He looked up at the USSR himself with a barely contained panic from behind his sunglasses, clutching his hands into fists at his sides so not to fidget and give away anything.

"Ah, America." USSR leaned down so they both stood at the same level, then held up his hand.

He flinched back and squeezed his eyes shut, anticipating the contact before it landed with his fists shooting up to protect his face by making an 'x' shape in front of it. He stood prepared for a few agonizing seconds, but when nothing stung against his skin, he hesitantly opened his eyes and inched down his arms in confusion.

There kneeled USSR, a hand held palm up in front of him, and a reassuring smile lighting up with golden eyes glittering. "There's no need to worry, little one. I have not invited you here to hurt you."

He stared at the hand offered to him as though touching it meant an instantaneous death, his own cautiously outstretching and resting in the bigger one.

He saw USSR's hand gently encase his own with a brightening smile. "You are very brave, little one."

He tried his best to keep his emotions in check, but he could feel his hand begin to shake despite his command, as well as his tears threatening to fall from behind his sunglasses.

"There's no need to be afraid anymore, little one." He watched USSR's thumb draw soft circles into the back of his hand. "Would you like anything to eat? Or do you wish to sleep? Maybe take a shower or a bath?"

He looked away, swallowing hard and clutching at his other arm. "I'm... I don't know sir," he heard himself whisper, his shaking beginning to worsen.

He felt a thumb brush along his cheekbone, almost as though wiping something - tears - away. "It's alright, little one. There's no need to be afraid to choose for yourself now. Just make yourself comfortable. How does that sound?"

He nodded, squeezing his eyes shut to somehow force himself to stop crying. "Y-Yes sir."

"You don't have to call me sir, little one." He felt the thumb on his cheek lift off of it. "Here, why don't we go get you prepared for the night? It's late, and I don't want you getting sick." He felt USSR let go of his hand, the welcoming warmth now leaving him as he watched the other stand up and gesture him to follow.

He did as told and followed by the trench coat tails, almost as though he reverted back to the mindset of a child and huddled to the leg of his mom. They walked into the hallway until USSR stopped in front of a door and pushed it open, almost fully crashing into the taller one on accident but stopping himself halfway.

"This will be your room. Are you alright with that?" USSR looked down at him with a smile and gestured him to look around.

He peeked into the room through the doorway, the space nearly three times as large as the one in his father's. A simple bed stood against the middle of the wall with a window shining behind it, a dresser and a closet on one side with a nightstand on the other side and a desk next to him from the doorway.

"... It's really great, sir." He flinched as he heard himself slip up, clutching at the door. "I-I mean-"

"Don't worry, little one. Make yourself comfortable, and call me whatever you like." USSR ushered him into the room. "I hope you enjoy it here."

He settled himself down onto the bed and laid down upon it as he heard USSR close the door behind him, leaving him to do whatever he wanted.

...

_"CRASH!!!"_

He snapped his head up from the shattered plate to stare wide-eyed at USSR, tears streaming down his face before he proceeded to hide himself in the other's chest. He heard USSR hush him, then a hand lightly brush up and down his back. He heard USSR mutter sweet nothings to him, play with his hair with one hand, and hold him close with another. He sobbed into USSR's chest, clutching at the shirt the other wore, and curling into a ball in the other's lap.

"I'm sorry, USSR, sir. I'm sorry I couldn't- I'm sorry I-"

"It's alright little one. There's no need to cry." He felt something warm and soft press against the top of his head. "It was an accident, nothing more. It's okay. I can just buy another one. Just take a minute. Breathe." He felt USSR pull him closer and, as a result, allow him to hear a soft heartbeat below his ear. "Just breathe, little one. It's okay. You're okay. It was an accident." He felt a hand brush up and down his spine as he struggled to contain his rampant panic, the motion somehow helping him gain some sense of control alongside the sound of the beating heart below his ear.

Eventually, after what felt like years of fighting to gain control over his panic, his mind finally slowed down, and his body relaxed into USSR's hold. USSR continued to hold him close, softly humming to him and rocking him a bit back and forth. The motions, coupled with USSR's voice, dulled out any other thoughts and lulled him to a dozing state, the feeling of USSR lifting him up, then placing him down on a squishy surface with something light pressing against his forehead following after.

"Don't worry, little one. You have nothing to fear." He felt fingers comb through his hair. "Do you want me to leave you alone?"

He shot out and grasped at USSR's arm as though swiping a piece of candy from the table, gripping desperately like letting go meant the last time he ever saw USSR. "N-No, please don't go. Please. I-I-"

USSR hushed him once more, fingers playing with his hair to help him relax as he felt the bed dip around him. He felt the arm he clutched slide out of his hold and gently usher him close as USSR played with his hair and traced his spine, soft hums emanating as USSR securely curled around him, protecting him. He balled his hands into fists in USSR's shirt, but eventually calmed down when he finally realized that, true to word, USSR didn't plan on leaving any time soon. He felt his body decompress once the panic settled itself, even growing a bit heavy as he felt the need to fall asleep.

...

While he played video games with Russia, he heard USSR call his name from the kitchen, and he felt his heart jump with fear. He snapped his head to Russia, who gave him an encouraging smile.

"Don't worry, мой брат. You'll be alright. Dad isn't going to hurt you."

He swallowed hard and stood up, walking toward the kitchen with a growing sense of dread before finding USSR sitting in a chair, a stack of papers within his hands, and a pen in his hand. He saw USSR smile at him as he sat down in another chair, and slid the papers to him. On the top, three words printed there on top of boxes all labeled with different kinds of sections and descriptions.

Report of Adoption.

He looked up at USSR with hesitancy. "If you wanted me to do work for you, you could have just asked and-"

"No no, America, I don't want you for work of any kind." USSR leaned down and brushed the back of his finger along his cheek. "I want to keep you around as my son. You are a bright young man, and a wonderful person. I want to give you a childhood and a life you didn't have when your biological father held you captive."

He stared up at USSR, unsure of what to do. Could he trust someone who has been so kind to him, then spring this on him? Could he trust this adoption as something with good intentions? "Soviet, I don't want to sour our relationship. I don't know if I could do this."

"It's alright, America. Take your time. I don't want you to feel trapped into this decision. I know you're afraid of what happened between that man and yourself, but don't worry. I can promise that I will never do that to you." USSR took hold of his hands, thumbs brushing over them. "I want to help you. I want to give you something that you couldn't have before."

He squeezed USSR's hands. "I just don't know if I could... could trust that."

"I know. And I don't expect you to. Just know that, if you ever feel like you want to, you can ask me to make it official." USSR pulled him into a hug, which he returned. "Don't feel pressured. I trust you. Just do what you feel is right."

...

He stared down at the script in his hand and sipped on his coke, muttering to himself each of his lines when he felt a weight on his shoulder, his skin brushed with silk from the weight there. He immediately shot up straight, an ice cold panic gripping him with wide eyes behind his sunglasses and a shock of adrenaline piercing his heart.

"Hello, British America," his father's voice muttered low in his ear, the gloved hand squeezing tight.

He swallowed hard and struggled not to start hyperventilating. His lack of answering made his father clutch harder at his shoulder.

"I said," he felt his father lean down into his back, "hello, British America."

He started spiraling out of control, shaking harder and beginning to hyperventilate, barely able to focus on the real world.

He heard his father chuckle. "Oh, I see you missed me. How nice of you. It's too bad you can't remember how to address me." He felt his father's hand caress across his neck and shoulder, then grip at his neck, squeezing harder and harder so he couldn't breathe no matter how hard he tried. "I guess we'll just have to work that out again, won't we?" He felt his father yank him back and drag him away from his spot, struggling to breathe as he kicked and gripped at his father's arms with tears streaming down his face. "There's no need to struggle anymore. Let's-"

"America!"

The pressure suddenly released from around his neck, air flooding his lungs in coughs as he sobbed and curled into a tight ball. He heard screaming and fighting above him, then a hand hesitantly touch his back. He flinched and tried to scramble away, gasping out 'no's as he pinned himself to a tree and dug his fingers into his scalp. He heard a voice speaking to him, a warm voice, one which he felt much safer than the voice from before. He wanted to reach out, but he knew reaching out too soon meant pain. He heard a soft humming sound, one which held a soft melody, which he could more easily identify with. He wanted to listen to it, but... but...

He heard the melody slowly grow closer and closer to him the more he focused on it, the humming becoming more and more familiar until he knew exactly who sang it. He hesitated for another long minute before launching into Dad's arms, sobbing curling into his chest, seeking comfort and safety. He felt one of his hands play with his hair as the other hand rested on his back, holding him secure and slightly rocking him back and forth while continuing to hum to him.

"Don't- Don't let him-"

"He's gone. You're safe now." He felt his fingers play with his hair. "You're safe, my son."

He whimpered into his chest, his tears staining the shirt he wore. "He came o-out of nowhere. I was just practicing for Theatre when- when-"

"It's alright now. I've got you. You're safe. How about we go home? Russia's waiting for you, and you've been practicing for a few hours now."

He sniffled and nodded, gripping at his shirt. "Don't let m-me go."

"I won't, my son." Dad pulled him closer, picking up and cradling him close, and played with his hair as he walked toward his car.

He buried his face in his shoulder. "I-I love you, Dad."

He felt a soft kiss press against his cheek. "I love you too, my son. Never forget that."


	11. Battle Against the Motivation

Japan, contrary to what many believed she acted like, embodied an exact opposite. She wore a traditional kimono, held a sword by her side, and stood with impeccable posture. She actually stayed silent most of the time, observing others, listening, watching, waiting. She watched North Korea from her spot, resting her hands upon her sword, with stringy black hair flowing in the wind. The imbecile tried to launch another missile, and of course it failed. The totalitarian man could not possibly amount to anything, especially after what happened with the first time North Korea attempted launching a missile. A truly foolish country. His family no doubt curls in disgust at the dishonor he has caused them.

_Basically Japan isn't a weeb most of the time, she is only a 'weeb' when people engage in those kinds of conversations and the person asking is good friends with her. She is more traditional and military-like because of her father Empire of Japan ye. All the Japans are weeby (I mean I'm fine if there's a few but like it's so many) and it's kind of annoying you know? Totally not because I cringe every time I read a Japan interpretation oh no why would I ever cringe at the constant *nuzzles* and yanderes and 'America-Senpai's and the kidnappings and the 'Japan is the romantic obstacle's and-_

Israel made her way up to the bright white door towering above her. She looked over at the doorbell, then pressed the button, and a segment jingle of America's 'Star-Spangled Banner' played into the house. She looked up as the door opened and found Texas, leaning against the threshold with one arm and staring down at her from below his cowboy hat.

"Israel, huh?" Texas pulled the cigar from his mouth and blew the smoke to the side. "What're y'all doin' here, m'darlin?"

Israel struggled not to cough at the smell. "I wanted to see America."

Texas arched a brow. "Really? America? What about? Y'all gonna ask him about giving you military support? I'm sure I could cover that for you."

She shook her head. "No, no. I just want to go out with him." She tried to look through the door and inside the house. "Is he in, or...?"

"He is." He tried to block her view.

She glanced to the side, still putting on a smile. "... May I see him?"

"He's got a lot going on right now." He nodded back toward the interior of the house. "Got a lotta work to get through."

"May I at least come in and-"

"We're in a shutdown right now, m' darlin." He tried to close the door, but Israel grabbed it.

"May I at least see him?"

He looked over his shoulder and had some sort of silent conversation with someone inside, then turned back to her. "I can let y'all in in a few minutes? He's a bit... He's havin a shutdown."

Israel arched a brow and crossed her arms while shifting her weight to one leg. "Is he? Or are you trying to deter me, hm?"

He chuckled and took another drag of his cigar. "Look, I can't let y'all in, m' darlin. You're a representative of another country."

"Then don't let me in as a representative as a country." She tried to squeeze her way in. "Let me in as a concerned friend."

He shook his head. "Y'all know y' can't come in, right?"

She heard shouting from further in the heart. Something along the lines of, 'leave the poor girl alone,' or something else. Texas huffed and took one last drag, then stood to the side to let her in.

"Come on in, m' darlin. I apologize about the little... misunderstandin." He watched her walk right past him to get inside. "He's on the third floor. Y' can't miss his room."

She nodded and made her way through the house, passing a few States along the way who all looked anxious and possibly a bit frustrated. She slowly pushed open the door at the end of the hall upstairs on the third floor. She found America at his desk, hunched over with his head cradled in his hands, looking more stressed than she had ever seen. Maybe they did have a shutdown?

Israel wrapped her arms around America's neck and nuzzled into the back of his shoulder. "Look who dropped by."

America jolted and turned around, his whole demeanor brightening at the sight of her. "Israel! Oh my God, it's so good to see you!" He caught her in a hug and nuzzled into her, a grin stretching across his face. "I feel like I haven't seen you in forever." He pulled back and held her upper arms with an even brighter grin. "Wow. I can't believe you're here."

Israel brightened and wrapped her arms around his neck. "It's good to see you too, America." She twirled her fingers through his hair, and America's hands rested down on her waist. "Why don't we go somewhere? You look so tired."

He bit his lip, as he always did when he got nervous or stressed, and probably glanced toward his mountains of paperwork on the desk. "I... I can't right now. I have to-"

"It's alright to take a break, America." Israel brushed his cheek with the back of her fingers. "Come on. Why don't we go take a break? I'm sure you can take just a small break."

"Israel, I don't know if I can. My government's having a shutdown over some pointless construction of a wall, and-"

"And that's the President's problem, not yours." She bent him down and kissed his forehead. "Let yourself relax a bit, won't you? You look so tired right now."

He debated it for another long minute, then finally cracked. "I... I guess you're right. But, I can't be out for long. I have to get more work done."

"I understand." She pressed soft kisses across his face. "Let's go take you somewhere nice. How does that sound?"

He nuzzled her cheek with a slightly strained smile. "It sounds... nice."

She kissed his temple and coaxed him to follow, taking him out of his room, down the stairs, out the door, and into the car. She shoved him into the back seat, settling into the seat next to him, and finally shutting the door. She laced their fingers together and snuggled into his side, the car kicking into gear and driving off. Despite her trying to snuggle with him, his body still felt too stiff to try anything of the sort.

"America, relax." She kissed along his jaw and squeezed his hand. "You can take a break. Don't worry."

He sighed. "I can't, Israel. I just..." he shook his head and rubbed his face. "I don't know."

She rested her arms around his waist and set her chin on his shoulder. "It's alright. It's not your job, America. It's your President's. You have time to relax." She pressed a light kiss to his cheek. "This is the first time in months I've been able to see you."

He turned to her and laid his forehead against hers. "I'm so sorry, Israel. You're right. I probably won't see you for... God knows _how_ long. I want to spend time with you, I really do."

"I know you do." She gave him a smile, her sky blue eyes softening. "You're okay, America. You just need to relax. And, I think I know just how to do that."

_They go on a date or something I guess_

_Also Texas is protective which is funny cuz he was a country before a state, and he's from the south which hates big government_

America walked onto the stage, his stilettos clicking against the ground as he tugged at his fingerless gloves. He got into position with his hand rested upon the pole in the middle of the stage, the catcalls and the howls of his name from out past the stage cheering him on and begging him to start his routine. The lights flashed on above him, and he spun around the cool metal, making sure to exaggerate any movements he made when he crossed his legs over the pole and arched back. He slid off his shirt and threw it to the crowd while he twirled upside down for a few moments, then arched back further to rest on the ground and let his legs unlatch, throwing himself into the splits  as he rested himself back on the ground. He slid his legs back around and grabbed the pole, then pressing against it as he snaked up to his feet, causing shouts of approval and shrill whistles encouraging him to continue. He saw a man with golden and bright blue eyes staring straight at him, intrigued, and wanting. He made eye contact with him, and the two made a silent agreement in that split second.

As he completed his routine, he exaggerated and became much more flirtatious, even reaching the point where his undergarments dipped down a bit further than he had practiced. As he walked off stage, he heard steps making their way toward him, and he looked up to see the man from the audience. He grinned and gripped the flaps of the man's suit.

"Saw you eyeing me from the stage, Russian man. Why don't we do a little extra if you pay a little extra?"

"Anything you want. I will pay you more if you grant my wishes."

"Of course."

About a month or so later, he got a call from Empire of Russia. Russia asked - no, demanded - America take the child he had, to which he gladly agreed. The man couldn't accept responsibility, so America had to take it upon himself to give the child a life which they deserved. They agreed, when the child was born, America takes the child.

In 1959, he received the gift of his two youngest children.

_Russia Empire = Alaska's parent wow that child ain't illegitimate at all I don't know what you're talking about (a cute one tho Alaska is a good kid when he grows up and he and Hawaii are rly good sibling friends)_

_Also yes, I make countries change genders in this one because it just makes sense_

Illinois slid across the ice with ease in his skates, his arms rested behind his back, and his eyes glistening bright in the early morning sun. He turned and danced and leaped through the air, creating intricate patterns and lines upon the ice all around him. Wisconsin joined him at some point with skates of his own, somehow staying just out of Illinois' range of motion, but still almost dangerously close to him. On the other side of the resort, Utah stood at the top of the hill.

Utah slid up his goggles from his face and stared around at the summit, feet bound together by a single strip of curved plastic. He hummed in satisfaction, sliding over to the steepest hill in the resort. With one last slow breath, and a snap of his goggles going back into place, he took off sideways down the mountain. He drifted easily across the surface of the blinding white snow, winding around obstacles before coming upon a ramp of snow a little ways down. He steered himself off to the side, looking calm and collected.

"Aw, is the snowboarding Mormon trying to do a trick?" Colorado slid up next to him on his skis, undoubtedly grinning behind his face mask.

"Do not speak to me in such a tone, heathen. Snowboarding, no matter how much you wish to convince me otherwise, shall always be the superior winter sport." Utah leaned down a bit as he got closer to the ramp.

"Where were you born, the sixteen-hundreds? No need to speak like Shakespeare, old man."

"I am twenty years your junior. You have no right to call me so."

He flew off the ramp and took to the air, casually completing a front flip and landing with ease. Colorado appeared back at his side not a moment later with a laugh in his voice.

"Is that best you can do?"

"I do apologize, but who was it that hosted the 2002 Winter Olympics? Oh, right, the superior. I pity you, primitive beast. Of course I can do better. I just prefer not to let my ego get the best of me."

Colorado growled beneath his breath. "Right. Of course."

_Illinois/Wisconsin are good ice skating bois, Utah is a snowboarder, Colorado is a skier_

A door opened from some other place in the house, and he immediately snapped awake and flicked off the TV. He focused on the noise, staring straight and keeping in place so not to startle the one trying to sneak around in the hallway. Just when the steps reached the kitchen, he flicked on the lights and stared down at Mississippi, who looked up at him with wide eyes.

"What are you doing up?"

She swallowed hard and glanced to the side. "Uh... nothing?"

He arched a brow at her. "'Nothing,' hm?"

She looked toward the fridge. "I... wanted something to eat?"

"Oh really?" He put down his glass on the counter. "Then what do you have your keys for?"

She hid her keys behind her. "Uh... no reason."

"You're going out again, aren't you?"

He heard more rustling, then snapped his head up to Alabama, and realization hit him like a bus.

He groaned and pinched his nose. "Alabama, Mississippi, no. I'm not going to have you going out to have a four-"

"We weren't," Mississippi tried, "we were just-"

"I saw the box in Alabama's drawer, Mississippi."

He heard Alabama swear from upstairs.

_Box contains latex ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) Alabama Mississippi and two others hmmm_

_I also originally thought I would have this idea attached to the end of the first vignette in Domestic, but I felt it didn't match up quite right with the tone I was going for_

America listened to the chirping of the moonlit night in the window next to him, his eyes closed and his hands rested behind his head. He heard something shift next to him, the creak of the bed as it dipped by his side, and then a hand glided along the soft lines of his abdomen, ghosting up until it reached his cheek and coaxing him to turn his head to the side. Not a moment later, the feeling of soft lips pressed against his, and he succumbed to the warmth, completely submitting himself to the one he laid under. He felt something soft drag up his torso and leave a light tingling sensation like a trail leading behind it, then that same smooth softness gently encasing itself around his eyes. His hands moved up and tangled in silky, straight hair while another pair of hands traced across his skin, and a slow swipe ran across his bottom lip, whispering for him to open his mouth. He warmly complied, his lips parting to allow the other to explore, to wander around his mouth and embrace his tongue. The hands drew along his sides and swirled around his waistline, where the hands easily slid off the cloth that still clung to his hips. He tried to press closer in order to gain some semblance of friction, but the hands took hold of his hips and gently moved them back down, keeping them against the bed.

The other inched away from his mouth and panted into the air next to his face, warm breath hinting across his cheek as he tried to catch his breath as well. He felt the other shift above him, then that same pair of lips pecked and mouthed along his neck while the hands cradling his hips created circles on his skin with feather-light touches.

_Idk who America's with (just go with whoever you think I guess) I was just experimenting with sensory describing and since I am terrible with writing soft things I decided to write a soft thing (or tried to anyway)_

_I struggle with handling things that are soft because I'm weird_

_Also I had this headcanon that America either likes it real rough, or like the softest you could ever soft, but it has to have that slight hint of romance/possession behind it because America's a sucker for romance (literally, he wants nothing more than to be romantic with someone, I mean did you see the Rusame chapter? Boi just wants somebody to love <\- also my headcanon song for him)_

 

_My thought process is weird_

_I'm a strange human being_

 


	12. Image - M

WARNING: THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS THEMES SUCH AS ANOREXIA NERVOSA, BODY DYSMORPHIA, SOCIAL ANXIETY, AND REFERENCES OF LIBEL THROUGH MEANS OF CLAIMING TEEN PREGNANCY. IF YOU CANNOT READ THESE THEMES WITHOUT TRIGGERING PAST EXPERIENCES, THIS CHAPTER IS NOT FOR YOU.

...

Strange what someone's image does to the others around them. How something as small as a few pounds can grab the attention of everyone.

America stood as a prime example. Middle school never treated him well, what with his already difficult situation with losing weight because of medications he took and his height doing nothing to help his situation. They called him Capitalist Pig, they spread threatening lies about how he couldn't fit into a suit because he gained over a hundred pounds in just two days, they made sure to let him know exactly what he looked like. A Capitalist Pig.

"Better than a starving Commie," he heard his brother say.

He paid his brother no heed, he didn't see a point. He knew they spoke truth.

So, he watched labels.

He watched his labels. He bought a scale off of the birthday money he received instead of his long-awaited gaming set. He forced himself into clothes three times too small. He forced himself to run three miles every day. He bought some weight-loss drugs. He watched how much he ate.

Then, freshmen year began.

They stared in awe at him, almost as though he jumped into an entirely different body. He changed his appearance to one with more style, black sunglasses rimmed with gold, fingerless black gloves with gold embroidering, a sleek, tight-fitting, black v-neck, ripped black jeans, and some black and gold sneakers. The clothes and style that once eluded him fit him better than ever, and they loved it.

He became one of the most influential kids in school. They went to him for advice. They herded to him at lunch when the bell rang. They came to him for the loudest parties in the world. They envied him.

But, this never satisfied him.

He still saw that same Capitalist Pig from only two years prior.

He poured his money into a gym membership. He worked on his image for weeks on end without stopping. He took to watching health videos, followed bodybuilding accounts, and even bought those cringe-worthy workout DVDs for him to watch if the gym turned out to close down for an unexpected reason.

He came back the next year with even more praise than before. They fawned over him. They drooled over him. They all wanted a piece of him. They ran wild at the mere sight of him. They begged for him to pay attention to them.

Even then, he ignored them. He didn't see the point.

He still looked like a Capitalist Pig.

His brother, however, begged him to do the opposite of everyone else. His brother begged him to eat more, as though everything he worked for, his image, meant nothing. Spoke like his middle school days should repeat themselves. Spoke like middle school made him happier, healthier.

He refused to listen, he saw no point.

He now had everything he ever dreamed of. The one who he crushed on since the beginning of middle school now came to his home every day with the promise of love. He had friends outside of his family. He now felt welcomed, like they cared.

Then, he fainted at school.

Apparently, from stories he heard from his brother, he hit his head on the track when he fell during one of his morning runs. A coach called for an ambulance, and the school nurse rushed to his aid while they waited for the emergency responders. He woke up in a hospital bed, faces crowded around him, all of them afraid for him. His family, his brother. The doctors tried everything to explain to him that he slowly killed himself every month he spent on this diet.

He couldn't find it in him to agree with them. He worked so hard to get this life, with the one he loved, and the attention of everyone around him, and the strength to lift more than a thousand times he could before. He had to look better. He just ran too fast and passed out. Yeah. Nothing too bad. How could they ask him to give away his happiness like this over something so minuscule? He couldn't go back to being the heaviest country again, no. He refused to go back to being the Capitalist Pig.

So he didn't say anything. He looked away, only acknowledging them with a single sound. Why give up everything he gained for something that caused his suffering in the first place? He placed in the top four percent of his class, he had the one he loved by his side, and he had more friends now than he ever did. Why couldn't they see it? Why did they want him to eat so much? He ate perfectly well, nine hundred Calories a day. He ate all the nutrients he needed without causing deficiencies. He ate perfectly well, if anything he needed to go less. Why did they sound so worried for him? Why did they want him to throw away his life by boosting his intake to nearly three thousand?

He refused to listen, he saw no point.

Then, in the months before his second last year in high school, he finally got the wake-up call he desperately needed.

He no longer had any energy to keep pushing himself, but he kept going. He stayed at the gym for hours on end to gain some kind of muscle, but he couldn't do it. Everything strained him. And now, he had a bar pinning him to the bench, unable to breathe, and his arms shaking as he tried his damndest to force the bar, which once he lifted with ease, off his chest. Someone else, a country which he vaguely recognized, saved him from slowly suffocating, and helped him lift the bar up and onto its resting place.

"What in th' flyin' fock are y' duin, boy!?"

America couldn't look up at the blue and white eyes above him, simply sitting up and walking over to the treadmill. "I just need to run a bit," he heard himself say, "to my energy back."

"Boy, y' look like y' haven't eaten in years, what th' hell r' y' duin!? Y' can't jus' go starvin' y'rself and expect t' lift up a bloody hundred thirteen kilo bar." The man grabbed his shoulder and yanked him back with ease.

"I eat just fine," he muttered.

"Bollocks. I know a starvin' man when I see one."

He tried to pull away, but the man kept a firm grip on his shoulder.

"Do y' not realize y' almost killed y'rself? Or are y' try'n'a prove somethin'?"

"I'm doing nothing wrong. I just need to run a bit and then I can-"

"Boy, listen t' me!" The man forced his head up so he looked up at those blue and white eyes, a fury burning within them. "I can't let y' push y'rself in y'r condition. Do y' understand what I'm _sayin'_ , boy? I can't let y' suffocate y'rself an' eat nothin'."

"I'm not starving."

"It's no use try'n'a convince me, boy." The man dragged him away from the equipment and toward the front door, muttering strings of curses to himself as they made their way to the door.

"Look, I don't know who you are, but-"

"Th' name's Scotlan'. I'm takin y' t' eat. My treat." Scotland looked down at him. "Y' got that, boy?"

America flinched and looked away, pulling at his shirt which now sagged a bit more than it used to. "R... Right."

"Gud." Scotland slammed open the door and made his way to the smoothie shop. "What's y'r name, boy?"

"America."

"Ay." He pushed open the door with a soft jingle from the bell above. "Oi, Wales!"

A woman popped her head up from beneath the counter.

"Get me a shake for th' boy. Medium."

America swallowed hard as Wales pulled out a cup and started pouring in all different kinds of ingredients. Scotland... why did that sound familiar?

"I'm assumin' y' don't have 'n allergy?"

"No. No, I don't."

"Gud."

America looked away and cleared his throat, unsure of what to do as he stood there, one arm caught in Scotland's grip, and unable to escape. Not too long later, however, a chocolate smoothie slid toward him, and Scotland sat him down on the bar stool.

"I want y' t' drink th' whole thing."

America looked up at Scotland, a panic growing in his chest. "Y-You can't really mean-"

"Th' whole thing. I know what I said."

He stared at the drink in front of him. "How many u-uh... how many-"

"Boy, did y' not hear what I said jus' a secon' ago? Y'r goin'a drink it." He leaned down, sliding the smoothie to America. "An' we're not leavin' 'til y' do."

He hesitantly took the drink, his mind screaming at him not to take it. He already consumed his daily intake this morning, he couldn't possibly have this without-

"Y' can't die from a shake, boy. Hell, a full cow wouldn' kill y' th' way y' look now." He leaned over to America, looking him up and down. "Tell y' what. If y' finish th' whole drink, I'll give y' a full year's membership t' th' gym, an' a spot on th' varsity football team when y' get back t' school. Y' got two months, don't y'?"

He nodded, rubbing at the back of his neck. So that's where he knew the country from. The coach of the school soccer team. "I... do."

"So why not take th' deal? I saw y' every day y' ran in th' mornin', and when y' passed out." He shook his head. "Bloody hell, y' know y' can't survive on nothin', boy. Y' got dedication, I'll give y' that, but y' can't keep goin' when y' got no gas."

America watched as Coach Scot split open a straw and shoved it into the smoothie.

"So, we got a deal?"

America hesitantly held the smoothie to himself, taking a small sip through his straw. The liquid lurched in his stomach, almost angry that he tried consuming it.

"There y' go. Keep goin, will y'?"

He shivered and took another sip, clutching at the cup and forcing himself not to throw up. Each sip of the cup made him sick, but getting on the soccer team...

He nearly threw up quite a few times, and he could only get halfway down the cup. He tried, he honestly did, but now he felt sick. He couldn't do it. If he ate anymore, he'd gain weight, he'd throw up, he'd-

"Y' did gud, boy."

He flinched and looked up at Coach Scot. "Wh... what?"

"Exactly what I said." He now sported a smoothie of his own, chugging the last of an extra large with a sigh and rolling his shoulders. "Y' did gud. Lot better than I expected, actually." He chuckled. "Y' can't get on th' team 'til y' finish one after a session, though."

He stared at the cup, the liquid making him queasy at the sight of it. "I... I can't."

"Course y' can." He patted America's shoulder. "Y' jus' need a bit of practice." He slid America a piece of paper with a number written on it. "Call me when y' go t' th' gym again. I want a recordin' of y'r weight every time I meet y'." He stood up, gesturing America to follow. "An' I wan' t' see y' finish a shake. B'fore school starts."

America swallowed and nodded, grabbing the number and putting it into his phone. "And... do I write them down, or...?"

"Don't know, don't care. Think of somethin'." He shoved his hands into his pockets, walking out of the shop with America scrambling to his side.

"I... I don't think I could do it."

"Then y' can't be on th' varsity team." Scotland grinned back at him. "Y' c'n do it. Y' got enough time."

America pulled at his shirt, swallowing hard. "And... And if I don't?"

"I'll see y' tomorrow, lad." He opened up the door to the dark blue Vauxhall Insignia. "Y'r plans are t' come tomorrow, aye?"

He gave a sharp nod and glanced over at the Chevrolet Silverado in the corner. "I... I guess."

"Gud. See y' then." Coach Scot started up his car and sped off, leaving him on the sidewalk next to the gym in the dark. He stared down at his hands, his stomach still churning as he felt his panic rising again. Either he followed Coach Scot's advice, or his image will shatter forever. But... if he starts eating...

Capitalist Pig, or the failed soccer star?

He could hear the disappointment from his dad already. How could my most promising son fail to get into varsity? How could you do this to your old man, the one who ruled the game for years on end? Now you can't get that scholarship! Do you have any idea what this has done to you!?

But... he could hear the disgust from everyone else. His friends, his schoolmates, his... his love. _Look who gained a thousand pounds. How disgusting. You damn Capitalist Pig, you look more and more like a ball of fat every day. I knew it was too good to be true. You can't stay away from a burger and a cake no matter how much you try, can you?_

He retreated to his truck and curled into a ball, sobbing into his arms and shaking. Why did everyone want to ruin his life? Why couldn't they see he lived just fine on how he ate now. None of his nails looked yellow, his eyes didn't look bloodshot, he looked just fine. He just felt tired today, that's all. Why couldn't they just-

He heard a soft knock against his window.

He slid down his sunglasses and looked up to find his love's face in the window. He stood there, concerned look on his face as he pointed down to the door handle. America scrubbed his face and hesitantly reached out his hand, pulling the door handle so it popped open, then retreated into his tiny ball.

"America... oh God, what happened to you? You look... oh America..."

America felt arms wrap around him and pull him closer to the warmer, much bigger body next to him.

"America, you look... America, why are you so..."

America retreated into himself, panic setting in as he clutched at his arms. _Why are you so fat? You look absolutely disgusting! Why would you ever-_

"America, what happened to you?"

America swallowed hard, flinching when he felt a hand brush through his hair.

"America, what happened? You look so... and..." the heart below his ear beat frantically. "America, you look terrible."

"Please, America. Tell me why you're so thin."

America blinked in confusion, staring down at his arms. _Skinny? No no, that can't be right. They're just saying that, right? To get his hopes up?_

"America..." he felt the other shift and sit down on the seat, pulling closed the door, then pulled him closer. "America, why? Why do you look so... so..." he trailed off for a moment. "Is this why you haven't come to visit me?"

America flinched, turning away to hide his shame. "I've just been tired and-"

"N-No, don't say it, please."

He closed his mouth and looked down at his lap. "I just want to look better."

"America, you look worse than before. You look so  much worse. Please, I don't want you to starve yourself like this and- and-"

America flinched and tried to pull away. "I-I can get thinner, I promise, I just-"

"No, I don't want you thinner!"

He couldn't help the rise in confusion again. "You... don't?"

"No! Any thinner, and you'll end up dead! You're _skin and bones_ , America." He heard the keys turn in the ignition, then felt his love shift around. "I'm taking you back home."

"No, no, I don't need it, I-"

"America, this is what I've been talking about with your stubbornness!" He flinched as his love gripped his wrist. "I can't handle your constant reassurances that you're fine. You haven't told me a single thing about yourself!" The truck backed out, then his love started driving. "America, I can't keep doing this with you. Of course you're not fine, now can't you just admit it?"

America flinched and fidgeted. "I'm sorry, I'll-"

"No, I can't do this anymore. I'm telling your parents, and then I'm gone."

He stared down at his lap and swallowed hard. "Right."

"If you weren't so thin, maybe I could have lasted a little longer with you, but... no. Not like this."

When his... former love... dropped him off at his home, she told his parents about his body conditions and his starving tendencies, then left without another word. She left America to deal with his own problems, and told him to 'call her back when he was actually presentable again.'

His family responded in the exact opposite manner.

UK,  of course, didn't exactly understand how the whole mental part affected him and told him to just eat more. His mother somehow convinced UK that America couldn't just start eating, and suggested thy all start some sort of family therapy. Canada just hugged him close and acted like an emotional, supportive bigger brother.

The next two months of the summer, his family started attending family therapy, including his ever-busy parents, who seemed to never have the time for anything. America got started on an eating plan and went to the gym, now supervised by both Canada and Coach Scot. Despite wanting to resist this, mostly because he didn't want his family to have their lives interrupted, he wound up feeling like he felt more supported now than he ever did, and now he wanted nothing more than to please the people who loved him. So, with a great amount of struggling, he got his mental process under control. He could body build properly, and he could actually feel at least more comfortable in his own skin. At the end of his second month, he could finish an entire medium shake, and Coach Scot accepted him onto varsity football as he promised. He built up his body over the next few months, and became one of the top players on the football team. He had a new medication, a family support system, and he actually felt self-confident - with a few down spells once in a while, as expected - in himself and his body.

The constant judging of the other people around him still got to him, however. Especially when people yelled or glared at him.

"Stay away from me, Capitalist Pig."

America froze at the name, struggling not to reach down and clutch at his stomach. He heard giggles push past him and get softer as they disappeared down the hallway. He stayed there, his heartbeat skyrocketing, and his mind racing.

_Watch more labels. Eating too much._

He tried to keep a neutral expression, his hands clutched at his sides. No. No no, he looked just fine. He's gaining more muscle, not weight.

_But what if they're right?_

He retreated to a different part of the building and slammed open the bathroom door, leaning over the sink with the door locked behind him. He took a deep breath and squeezed his eyes shut, running his hands over his arms, then his sides, and finally, his stomach. He felt nothing abnormally rounded or flabby. He didn't have any excess fat. Nothing felt out of place.

He opened his eyes and looked at himself in the mirror, trying to calm the screaming voice in his head telling him how awful he looked. He kept clutching at his stomach, trying to keep the voice from taking over by muttering to himself that he's healthier, happier, and stronger. Today, however, it didn't seem to do much. The voices had ammo.

_Why would they say that name if they didn't see it?_

He took a deep breath and tried telling himself again, but cut himself off mid-sentence when someone knocked on the door.

"America? You've been in here for a while, come on. You need to get to class."

He looked over at the door. "I'll... I'll be out in a minute."

"Whatever you say..." then, he heard them mutter - probably thinking he couldn't hear - a low, "Capitalist Pig," while walking away.

He sighed and shoved his face into his hand, grabbing his phone with the other and logging in. He hesitated a moment, hovering his thumb over the chat he wanted in his messages, his father and mother.

_They wouldn't really want to be bothered with this again, would they? I mean, you already spent almost two years bothering them with this to fix it, and now you want to go back and do it again? They're probably tired of hearing it._

He inched his thumb away from the screen and turned off his phone. There's no need to worry them. He's supposed to be over this, so he wanted them to keep thinking that way. He's fine, he can handle it himself.

He shoved his phone into his pocket and covered his face with both his hands, resting his elbows on the sides of the sink and shuddering. He tried to tell himself that everything was just fine and that he wasn't anywhere near unhealthy, but...

_They wouldn't say it if they didn't see it._

No. No, it's just because he's got more muscle. He's not fat, he's... he's not.

_Maybe if you stopped, you could hear them praise you again. If you got thinner, you could hear them call your name._

But they praise him enough already. I mean, look at him. He's the superstar of the soccer team for God's sake! Not only that, but football - not that anybody played with him in that game, anyway, but he pretended to with his many many many animals, States as he called them - as well!

_Then why call you that name?_

He shuddered and stared at himself the mirror, his body somehow shifting in front of his very eyes.

_You know what you need to do._

No. No, it's wrong. He doesn't need to eat less to look healthy. He needs to eat to stay happy, not-

_Eating keeps you confined._

He slapped his own cheek to get his own attention, glaring at the mirror. "No, stop it. Stop it. Keep it together. You need food just as much as anyone else."

"Hey, what's goin' on in there!?"

He sighed and scrubbed his face. "It's just me, I'll be out in a minute."

"Why aren't you in class!?"

"I said I'll be out in a minute," he repeated, unaware of his tone of voice as he tried to get a hold of his mind again.

"Don't you yell at me like that, young man! Now, come out, or I'll have to send you to your father's room!"

"Look, just give me a minute." He dug his fingers into his face and squeezed his eyes shut as his mind tried to worm its way into refusing to eat again.

"That's it, you're coming with me!" The door unlocked easily, a woman gripping his arm and dragging him to his father's room.

"No no, you don't understand, I-"

"Oh, I understand alright." She squeezed his arm so he couldn't get away, making him stumble after her as she practically sprinted toward the office. "You're in trouble for talking back to me, young man." She scoffed. "You Capitalist Pigs are all the same."

He felt his heart stop again, laughing ringing in his ears from within the empty hallways.

_Even your superiors find you disgusting._

He stayed silent, finding it useless to resist any longer, finally just giving into the thoughts as the teacher banged on his father's door.

_Skipping on a single meal a day couldn't hurt, could it? It's just a few pounds, he won't lose much. He just needs to do it for a few weeks, that's it._

He looked up from behind his sunglasses as the door opened and his father looked at the both of them. His father turned to him, both a look of concern and disappointment on his expression. "Has something happened?"

"Mister UK. Your son has been disrespecting me, skipping class, and locking himself in the bathroom."

He flinched as the woman finished the statement, watching as his father's eyes glimmered with recognition. "Of... Of course. I'll take it from here."

"I expect him to attend detention."

"That won't be necessary, Freaudeckre."

She huffed and turned heel, stomping out of the office and grumbling how no one contained any respect with a last slam of the door.

He looked off to the side, rubbing his arm in silence, waiting for his father to say something - anything - before he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"America, why didn't you text me? I know I'm busy, but..."

He couldn't bring himself to look up at his father as he answered. "It's not as important anymore."

"No, no, don't say that." His father tilted his head up to look at him. "Your health is very important, my boy. What happened to cause this flare-up?"

He swallowed hard and shoved his hands into his pockets. "It's just..." he sighed, "I don't know."

He looked up when his father pulled him into the room and sat him down on the couch in the corner, then closed the door. "America, I know you know the reason." His father sat down in front of him in his work chair. "What happened? You know you can tell me."

He pulled at his gloves and tried to make himself look smaller. "I'm... It's stupid. I shouldn't have even bothered you with-"

"America, it's not stupid if it's bothering you." He watched his dad take hold of his hands and squeeze them. "Please, I don't want you getting sick again."

He swallowed hard. "It's nothing. I just... I'm letting people get to me."

"Well, that's not nothing. What are they saying?" His father squeezed his hand again.

He squeezed his eyes shut. "Nothing important. It's just a name."

"What name?"

He took another long moment to answer. "... Capitalist Pig."

He expected his father to laugh again, to scoff and bitch about how he'd heard that name a thousand times when he was in school, and maybe even tell him to toughen up a bit because it was 'just a name' and it shouldn't affect him so much, with a touch of 'grow up' or an 'ignore them.'

His father sighed, and he prepared for the worst. "America..." his father sounded like he struggled to find the right words.

He swallowed hard and tried to retract what he said before his father could get the chance to add those statements as he pulled away. "Look, I know it's stupid, so I'll just... I'll just go to class."

"No, America, that's not what I meant." His father rested a hand on his shoulder. "America, you know I've never been strong with emotions. I don't mean to be insensitive, and I sure as Hell don't mean to make you feel small, or weak, or... any of that." His father pulled him into a hug. "I'm sorry they're calling you names like that. I really am. I just... I wish I could help you."

He hugged his father back and buried his face into his father's shoulder. "I told you, it's stupid. It's just a name, and I know that. I just... I can't get over it."

"I'm sorry." He felt his father's hand pat and rub his back. "I know you struggle with this. Is there something we can do to help your mental state?"

He sighed. "I don't know. Maybe it's finals, maybe it's something else. I don't know."

His father chuckled and pulled away to look at him. "You'll do fine on those, my boy. You're a Capitalist! Purebred businessman! And, very handsome at the same time." His father smacked his arm, a bright laugh escaping him. "My handsome, successful businessman."

He meekly chuckled back, rubbing at the back of his neck and staring off to the side. "Thanks."

His father sighed and patted his shoulder. "If we need to up your dose on the new medicine, I can ask the doctor about it."

He swallowed and sighed. "I don't know. Probably. I don't know, I've just been really... really struggling with it lately."

"Well, is it only finals you're worried about?" His father walked after him when he made his way to the door.

America struggled answer. "I don't know. It's just a few different things happening at once."

"Ah, I see. Well, if you need anything, you know you can text me." His dad grabbed his wrist and looked up at him. "Please text me."

He grinned back and nodded. "I will. Promise this time."

His father sighed and let go of him, seemingly satisfied. "Alright, good. I expect you home by supper."

"Yeah yeah, alright, I will." He closed the door behind him, his smile dissipating as soon as it appeared.

He knew exactly why the remarks got under his skin lately. Why every little statement caused him to care more and more about his image, and pay attention to the little insecurities again. Why he struggled with falling into that pattern of watching labels, staring at the mirror, and standing on a scale. He hated to admit it, but he had a crush on... on one of his best friends. He liked someone he meant to keep as a friend. Now, with the new rumors that he fucked every girl in school and acted like a complete slut... well... he didn't want that either. He wanted to keep the friendship, even if it tore him apart, and he didn't want his best friend to get shamed for staying with him because he became the residential slut.

And, just his luck, he ran straight into his best friend while walking down the hallway.

He looked down at Ireland, struggling to manage an apology when he saw Ireland's face. His glistening green and orange eyes looked like he either stood on the brink of breaking down crying, or in an enormous amount of pain.

"Ireland, are you alright?"

To his confusion, Ireland simply walked the other direction without saying a word.

"Ireland?"

_He finds you disgusting. You need to start losing weight._

He debated running after Ireland, then going back to his father and asking about it, but decided against it. He just walked back toward his class, his head hung low, and his hands shoved in his pockets. He simply pulled open the door to his class, walking back to his seat and collapsing into it. He looked up at the teacher, tapping his finger against the desk while his teacher continued her lesson. He heard some other kids in class giggling quietly while glancing over at him, and his mind fired off at him.

_You need to get thinner. You have to look better for him. You have to look better for everyone. You have to prove to them that you're not a slut._

He sighed and shoved his face in his hands, rubbing his face.

"Oh, is this class too boring for you, America? Go outside."

He blinked in confusion and looked up. "I... what?"

"Go. Outside."

He hesitated, unsure of whether or not he heard her right, but stood up and walked out anyway, the class completely silent around him. He closed the door behind him and stood against the wall, waiting for the teacher to finish whatever she needed to finish. He felt a creeping sense of dread and a cold grip of anxiety. He could feel his panic begin to set in. Just before he could grab for his phone, she opened and shut the door.

The teacher shook her head and tapped her foot impatiently against the floor. "If you really don't enjoy it here that much, then you can just leave. Skipping like you have for the past ten minutes, I'd think you're trying to find any excuse to get out of this class."

His eyes blew wide from behind his sunglasses as he saw his teacher, a teacher which he respected, admired, snap at him for something as small as sighing in the back of class. He had only come into class late one time before. What had he done wrong?

"I'm very disappointed in you, America. You were one of my best students, but I cannot tolerate a student skipping for such obscene acts get let off so-"

The phone began to ring from inside the classroom, but she continued relentlessly. He even tried interrupting her to ask if she could stop because of the growing dread he felt.

"-easily as you do. Just because you're the principal's son and you're on the football team doesn't mean you are above consequences. You may be a good student, but that doesn't mean you have any excuse." She straightened as she walked up to him, to which he shrank back out of both surprise and intimidation. "How dare you skip for something so disgusting. I have never used an insult before, but I feel this is a situation which causes an exception." She leaned down over him, her once inspiring voice now cold and threatening. "You are a Capitalist Pig."

He swallowed hard as tears stung at his eyes, his hands pressing back into the wall, and his throat closing up. His mind sprinting at a million miles a minute, he could barely hear the teacher. He struggled to grab for his phone, but his teacher gripped it first and yanked it away from him.

"And you won't need this anymore."

He started hyperventilating as he tried to reach for his phone. "M-Ma'am, please, I don't know what I did wrong, but-"

"What were you going to do, call for your father? Get him to bail you out? Not out of this one." She started walking toward the office, which had him panicking.

"M-Ma'am, no, wait, please, what did I do? I don't know what I did. Ma'am-"

She slammed down his phone on the front desk and crossed her arms at the woman behind the counter. "This child has been skipping and had his phone out in class."

America gripped at the counter, his panic spiraling out of control. "Please. Please, I didn't. I don't know what's going on, please. Please, I did nothing."

"Don't talk back," the teacher warned lowly.

"Please. I need my phone. Please." He felt his hands begin to shake, the woman behind the desk looking between the two with a conflicted look in her eyes. "I- I don't-" he felt his mind start to go hazy, his hands clutching harder and harder at the desk until the wood began to split between his fingers, and his breathing escaped his regulation.

"Look at him, can't go a second without his phone."

"Please- I can't-"

His surroundings blurred into the background as panic consumed his mind. He vaguely heard some familiar voices and names, but he couldn't focus on anything. He couldn't hear anything, couldn't see anything, and everything became just white noise and an overwhelming feeling of impending doom, one which made him feel as though at any moment, he would die. He would die at any second. It was only a matter of time. He could feel the seconds ticking down. One. By. One.

"America, my baby, take a deep breath. Take a deep breath."

"M-Ma- Mama-" he couldn't breathe, his mind crashing and incinerating itself as his last seconds ticked down. He couldn't breathe. He's suffocating, despite taking in breaths every half a second.

"Try breathing with me. Ready? Let's count to four. Breathe in." He heard her breathe in through her nose, which he struggled to replicate.

"I can't- I can't do- do it-" he felt his mind screaming at him. He was in his final moments. His world was crashing down around him.

"Yes you can, my baby. You can do it. Let's try it again, okay? Breathe in."

He tried it again and his mother only got to one. "M-Mama-"

"It's okay, my baby. Take your time. You can do it."

He can't do it. He's going to die. He will die any second.

"It's okay. Let's try again. You can do it. Ready? Breathe in."

He breathed in, and this time barely made it to two.

"See? You're doing better. You can do this, my baby. You're not going to die. I'm right here. I'll protect you. Let's try it again. Breathe in."

He struggled to breathe in time with his mother, his mind thrashing and screaming at him. "I can't- I can't-"

"Yes you can. I'm right here. You're doing good. You're halfway to four. You're almost there. Let's try again, okay?"

He did what his mother asked, and yet again, got to two.

This process continued for what felt like hours. He struggled to get himself under control, and when he finally could breathe at least a bit more normally, his mother helped him deter his mind away from the attack, and he recovered in his father's office on the couch, wiping the cold sweat away and burying his face in his hands as he laid back. His father let him stay there, continuing on with his work and making phone calls to the teachers he had the rest of the day. He sipped on some coke, staring off at the far wall as his mind continued to tank.

_You saw the way they reacted. No one respects you. No one finds you attractive. They all find you disgusting looking. You need to start working out more and eating less._

He clutched at the glass bottle in his hands and rested his elbows on his thighs, his feet now rested on the floor. No, he didn't need to eat less. It's just a bad day today, that's all.

_Then how do you explain the way Ireland looked at you?_

He bit his lip, no form of a rebuttal coming to mind no matter how hard he tried.

_That's because you know it's true. He finds you less attractive. You're more of a burden to him now because you look disgusting. You look less attractive in every single way._

"America?"

He snapped his head up toward his father, who now stacked some papers together and aligned them by tapping them against his desk. "Uh, yeah?"

"Your teacher told me you have gotten her daughter pregnant." He looked over to him. "Have you been fornicating with other students?"

He felt a shock of confusion run through him. "What? No! No, I don't do that, I have soc- football practice to worry about. I have a game in two weeks, I can't go around fucking people. I don't have time."

"Language, my boy." He watched his father take a sip of his tea. "I know you don't have time, but I also know you have been going off-campus for your off period." He turned to him and laced his white-gloved hands together. "My boy, if you have gotten someone pregnant, I need to know."

"I swear upon the life of every State, I did not fuuuuornicate with anyone." He sighed and shoved his face into his hands. "Why does everyone think I do that? I don't!"

"Alright, my boy, alright. I'll see if I can offer her a blood test. See if she's lying, or just spreading defamatory claims." His father shook his head and went back to the paperwork. "I trust you."

He scrubbed his face and curled into a tight ball. "Why does everything bad have to happen today? I don't understand."

"'Everything'?"

He flinched. "Nevermind. Just... nevermind."

"No no, tell me."

"It's just people in school. It's nothing to worry about." He ran his hands through his hair with a slow sigh. "It's really nothing. Don't worry about it."

"Did you know you say 'it's nothing' every time you're lying to me?"

America bit his lip hard. "I'm... I... It's nothing at all."

"You know you can tell me, yes?" His father took hold of his hands. "I can help you."

"You won't like what you hear," he muttered, staring off to the side and refusing to look at his father.

"And I can handle it."

America swallowed hard and shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "I don't think you can."

"Try me."

He shook his head. "I'm not comfortable talking about it right now. Can we talk about it later? Maybe when we can talk... just the two of us? Maybe with Mom involved too if she wants?"

"It is just the two of us, my boy. What's going on? Why are you so hesitant? Have you done something wrong?"

He looked off to the side. "It's not anything illegal, if that's what you're asking."

UK looked at him with a bit of confusion. "The way you phrased that makes it sound like it is, my boy."

"Look, it's just some drama I'm having with myself right now, and I think it's gotten worse because of the rumors spreading around the school."

"Well, what was it, exactly? I may be able to assist you."

"Not with this." America sighed and dug his fingers into his scalp. "I have a crush on my best friend. My best friend! And I can't change anything about it, and I don't want to ruin anything, but I know that he's just going to go away because he doesn't have any sort of interest in men. I don't know what to do. I know it's wrong, and I know it's a terrible thing to do, and I know it's hopeless, but I can't change a single thing."

UK listened to him in silence with his fingers pressed against each other while he leaned back in his chair and crossed one leg over the other, which only made America feel worse.

"I never wanted this to happen. I tell myself over and over and over that I have no chance, and anything I do or say won't change that, but I can't get it through my thick skull that it's true. He will never like me back in the same way I feel for him. Never. And I can't change it no matter what. I can't do it." He burrowed his nails into his skin. "I never wanted this. Why can't I just be left alone? Why can't I just make it stop?"

He didn't notice his mother quietly entering the room, or his parents having a silent conversation between them as they looked at each other, then to their son.

"I just want to have someone who cares for me like I do them."

France settles next to him on the couch and cradled him close. "You'll find someone one day, don't worry. We'll be there when you do."

He leaned into her, but didn't hug her back. "Thanks."

...

America stood at the front of the stage, cap and drapes on him, and ribbons of all kinds thrown across it. He had his signature sunglasses, and now, a figure which he felt happy with. He grinned as he took the diploma and shook the hands of everyone in line. And finally, he tackled his family in big hugs with bright smiles and warm laughs. After an entire almost two years of improvement, he now had a way to live life to the fullest, despite the trials and rough spots here and there. On his last day as a primary schooler, he finally could leave all of the troubles behind. Although his mental state may not be perfect, it was still a hell of a lot better than where he started from, and it will continue to improve the longer he works at it. He could focus on other aspects of his life without having to constantly battle the thoughts he possessed about his body.  He had received his diploma, and could now go home. Just like that, it's over.

His image didn't matter anymore.


	13. No Rhyme or Reason

Russia arched a brow as he stared up at the door sign reading something along the lines of 'caution do not touch' or something or other, he didn't really pay attention. Whatever America had in this room, it no doubt had the power to destroy the world. So, he pushed open the door and walked inside. Instead of some large room, or a lab testing facility, he found himself in a tiny space with buttons galore, a bright dial with the number '21' above it, and a gigantic red button. He decided to play around with the dials and buttons to try to find out just what each one did. He turned the dial back to '19' and flipped a switch which had the number '40' and pushed a button with the number '8.' He then saw another whole wall of buttons light up on the wall, where he proceeded to push 'A2' alongside '23,' '12,' '00,' and '60.' As he pushed the last button, he saw one last wall of buttons light up, each of them with two letters capitalized on all of them. He decided to push in the one labeled 'TX' because that sounded like one of America's States, and it looked funny. As he turned back to the red button, he saw it light up a bright green, blinking every so often. With one last glance behind him, he slammed his fist against the big green button.

Big mistake.

He felt his stomach lurch and his head grow light. His body flung to one side and slammed against the ceiling somehow, the G Forces making him feel like he sunk into the metal at the top.   After only a few seconds, he slammed down against the floor, pain shooting up his nose and down the front of his body, the wind now knocked out of him. He coughed and curled into a ball, groaning and clutching at his nose. That did not feel nice at all. What just happened? Did he make it fly downwards? Did he just mess with an elevator of some kind? He took a few moments to recover from the adventure, then pushed himself off the ground and rubbed his nose. Might as well see where he landed.

He pushed open the door and found himself in a town that looked straight out of a western cowboy movie. He walked around in the desert, watching women walk by in square shouldered vests and long skirts, and men with cowboy hats, boots, and leather. Horses and carts made their way across dirt roads, as well as bulls and dogs. There stood a saloon in front of him, one which had a single star engraved into it, and from what he could see in the windows, brightly clothed women on stage and around the saloon looking a bit less modest than the rest. Having no other option, he decided to just walk inside, and voices piled over each other and blasted in his ears when he entered. He looked around the room, the smell making his nose crinkle, and the heat causing his body to immediately drench itself in sweat. He tried to fan himself by pulling at his shirt to cause gusts of air to fly past his face, but it did nothing to help his predicament.

"Hey there, sugar."

Russia turned to the voice to find a little lady in a bright red and jet black dress, her painted face well made, and a bright smile on her face. "... Hello."

"How can I help y'all?" She held up a glass full of golden liquid. "Beer?"

"No, no. Could I ask where I am?"

She giggled. "This is the Lone Star Saloon, sugar. What brings you here?"

Maybe she didn't understand the question. Might as well go along with it anyway. "Just passing through, I think."

"Need anything before you leave then, sugar?"

"Sure. Do you happen to have any vodka?" He rested his hands in his pockets.

"I think we might. Here, follow me this way, sugar." She started walking further into the room, which Russia followed after. "Any preferences?"

"The stronger, the better." He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. "Did something happen to your AC? It's really hot in here."

She frowned a bit. "I don't know what you mean, sugar."

"M' Darlin!"

The woman turned toward the voice to find Texas, with his signature cowboy hat and boots, as well as his lit cigar.

"We need to get this place in tip top shape. George'll be here in a few. Help some of the poor drunken souls out, won't you?"

"Yes sir." She turned back to Russia and gave another bright smile. "I'll help you find a drink in a moment, yeah? I need to help these gentlemen home."

"Right. Yes."

The girls on stage finished their number, and claps and whistles cheered them off. The woman then ushered less-than-sober patrons out of the saloon, then started cleaning up the place. Some of the other women began helping out as well, cleaning the tables and the bar, sweeping the floors, and even filling the bottles which dipped below three quarters full. One of them made their way outside and to the side, dipping out of sight of the windows.

Texas made his way up to Russia with the cigar still rested in his mouth, head tilted slightly upward to stare at Russia from below his hat. "Welcome to Texas. And who might you be, traveler?"

"Vladimir." He nodded in greeting. "And you are?"

"Dallas." He tipped his hat a bit. "Pleasure to meet y'all." He looked up behind Russia and grinned. "M' Darlin, come here."

"Yes sir!" The little lady in the red and black dress settled by Texas' side. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder and squeezed her close to his side with a grin.

"I want y'all to meet my good friend Marilyn." He patted her shoulder.

"Pleasure." Russia held out his hand to the both of them, which they both took and shook.

Marilyn and looked behind Russia, holding up her dress and running as fast as she could toward the door. "George is here, Dallas. Let's go talk to the bugger."

Russia turned around and saw a man mounted upon a glistening white horse, a hat shading his eyes and sharp boots etched with stars burned into the sides. He saw the man hop off and stand upon the ground, patting the horse's side and brushing his fingers through the coat.

"America, you sick bastard!"

America? This cowboy with more essence of a man than could fill up twenty countries was America? The bitchy, arrogant loudmouth!? It  _couldn't_ be.

America fixed his cowboy hat and looked over to Marilyn with a grin. "Yes, Mississippi?" He even had a southern accent!

"What the hell are you trying to do to us!?"

"Mississippi, please. Pour me a drink before you scream at me."

He reached for his shirt and began to unbutton it, pulling off his shirt easily and throwing it over his shoulder while grabbing the reins of his horse.

Oh. Hot.  _Damn_.

"I've been on the road with Destiny all day." America walked Destiny toward the stable which stood next to the saloon, Texas and Mississippi both on his heels. "Look, I don't mean to throw you for a loop with this new policy."

"The hell you don't." Mississippi stomped on the ground next to him, her eyes sparking with a rage Russia had never seen in any of America's States.

All of this has to be some kind of elaborate prank. Right? This can't seriously be happening right now. The America he knew  _never_ had a body like that.

"If y'all don't do something about this slavery policy, then we've got a big problem," Texas growled.

America simply tied up Destiny to her designated post and kissed her forehead before turning to Texas and Mississippi. "I'm trying my best here. You think I'm trying to choose the North over you down here?"

"Yes," they both hissed back.

Slavery? But America hasn't had slavery for over one and a half centur-

Oh.

Oh no.

Ooooh no.

Russia stumbled back and fell into his seat, holding his head to try to stop from passing out. He traveled back to the nineteenth century. He's in the years before America had his Civil War.

"Just get me a beer, won't you?" America pushed open the door and walked toward the bar, right past Russia. "We can talk about it then. Are the rest of the Southerns here?"

"Just us for now." Mississippi made her way behind the counter and grabbed a bottle, carelessly pouring beer into a glass and tossing it toward America. "Now why haven't we gotten a straight answer about your slavery expansion policies?"

"Because we haven't finalized them yet, Mississippi." America sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, clutching at his drink and downing it. "Look, I don't know what you want me to do. I'm doing the best I can right now." America arched his back and stretched, his arms reaching high into the air. The way his body moved, and his arms flexed-

Russia shook his head and tried to focus in on their conversation again.

"Well clearly it isn't enough." Mississippi threw her hands in the air. "I'm tired of this waiting game, America. Either draw a line, or we will."

America downed his beer - more than Russia had ever seen the man drink ever in the time he has known the country - and let the glass clink against the bar, Texas proceeding to pour more beer into it. "Like I said, Mississippi, I am trying my best."

"Then try being just a bit better, won't you?" Texas put down the beer pitcher, both States watching America continue to consume more beer than Russia ever thought possible for him.

"These things take time. I am trying as hard as I can to get a good compromise for both parties, but neither you seem happy enough with what I give you."

Mississippi scoffed and settled herself into a bar seat across from America. "We might be if you let us choose what we wanted for ourselves."

"I  _have been_  letting you choose things for yourselves! You have more power than I do in most every situation, don't you get that? I feel like I'm here just as a mediator between you two sections rather than a unifier like I'm supposed to be!" He desperately gulped down another glass of beer, almost like drinking as fast as he possibly could calmed his nerves in some way.

Russia tried to get up silently from his seat, but unfortunately, God didn't seem to want to take his side today. The chair scraped across the floor, and silenced all of the bickering between the States and America.

America slowly turned around, his eyes shrouded in the shadow of his hat. "And you are?"

A shiver wanted to crawl up Russia's spine at the tone of voice. "Vladimir. Well, a cover name, just as George, Dallas, or Marilyn are for the three of you." Russia tried to hide his surprise behind his stoic facade, leaning back and resting his crossed legs on the table in front of him, and pressing his hands together behind his head.

"Well, you sure don't look like you're from around here." America stood up and walked toward him, his body looking in even better shape from up close. Nearly perfect tan, glistening skin, sculpted body... "Who are you, then?"

"Republic of Russia, 1991." He grinned as America crossed his arms, causing him to look more threatening and... a bit more attractive. "I'm from the future."

America scoffed and laughed. "Right. And I'm from the Ouaddai Kingdom."

He does sure as hell  _looks_ like a Chad right now, though. "I can prove it to you."

"Oh yeah?" America took a seat across from him, Texas and Mississippi standing behind him. "Do it then."

Russia smirked and pulled out his phone, twirling it around his hand holding it up for America. "Behold, the phone."

America leaned back as Russia turned it on and logged in. "... Alright, you've convinced me. What are you doing in my domain so far back into your past, then?"

"To be honest, it happened by complete accident." Russia put his phone away and looked around. "So what year is this?"

"Eighteen hundred forty eight." America angled his hat down as he leaned back, an arm rested on the back of his chair and resting one leg down the table while the other stayed on the floor. "What year do you come from, then?"

"That's unimportant for now." He cleared his throat, trying his damndest not to look down and keep his eyes straight on America's from within the shadows. Can't act like this now, especially when America definitely wasn't okay with that side of himself either at this time. "What is important is that I get back home and leave you to your tensions." He stood up, staring up at the wall so not to selfishly catch a glance of America, and started toward the door. "After all, I wouldn't want to spoil the future for any of you."

He heard a chair scrape against the floor, then a strong hand gripped at his shoulder. "I wouldn't want to make you feel  _unwelcome_." He felt himself pinned against that same body he  _really_  didn't have the self control to be against right now, Texas appearing in front of him with a cigar still between his teeth to border that line between friendly and threatening. "I'm sure you could stay a little longer. Couldn't you?"

Aggressive. Really aggressive. Oh boy.

He pushed himself away and speed-walked toward the door before his body could react in any... unwanted ways. "Nope, I really can't, I have things to do."

He slammed closed the door and practically sprinted for the time machine, diving into the doors and pinning himself against the back of it. Within a few moments, he slammed down against the floor again and feeling himself get forced further and further into the plush the more G Forces got applied. Not a few seconds later, he felt himself flung to the ceiling, then fell back down to the floor. Wow, his nose really got a beating today.

He held his nose and walked out of the machine, scrambling away from it and running straight into-

Oh  _God_  no.

"Well hey there, Russia. Mind telling me why you're down in my experimenting room?"

He had that threatening edge in his voice which he heard only a few moments ago, and he couldn't handle it.

"Hey!"

Not today, Satan.

He felt blood dripping from his nose as he sprinted down the hallway. He was so done. He couldn't handle this. That's it. No more America for a  _very_  long time, mission be damned.

...

America looked around the empty elevator as Great Britain stood next to him, hand on his shoulder, and smirk on his lips.

"America, my boy, today you are picking out your first companion."

"What do you mean? I already have my States." America looked up at his father, then back to the elevator doors. "Shouldn't that be enough?"

"You misunderstand, my boy. We are giving you a bigger companion today. One which all the countries posses."

America watched as the elevator opened, and he walked out onto the balcony, where he found animals of all kinds below him, screeching and bellowing and roaring and cawing.

"We are getting you a national animal today."

America stared out in awe at the many animals in cages of all kinds, all of them bigger than their ordinary counterparts, almost quadrupled, quintupled, maybe even sextupled. Far into the background, way into the back, he saw a blue whale which looked even bigger than its usual size by at least three times. He sprinted down the staircase almost too fast for his legs to handle, tripping quite a few times before scrambling his way through the many cages, gazing around in awe at the many different animals he could call his own. He zipped from cage to cage, looking at the many different animals with bright eyes, until he found a single cage, towering high above him, with a tarp draping over it in its entirety. America crept toward the cage with a sense of awe, resting his hand upon the thick fabric and finding metal bars which felt as thick as the columns holding up the temples in Athens. He peeked under the fabric, only seeing a glimpse of some shimmering brown feathers before he felt himself yanked back.

"Not that one, my boy. That one is dangerous, unpredictable. No one has had the patience to tame the beast." Britain pulled him away and made his way toward the big cats. "Why don't we get you a lion? Strong, prideful, elegant, skilled, just like your father's."

America stared up at the cage as he retreated, longing to see the animal from beneath.

America and Britain stayed in the shelter for the entire day, looking through animals of all kinds - from real, to mythical - but they found nothing to America's interest. Britain eventually went off for a tea break, leaving America to look for himself for a while. He decided to go back to the covered cage, inching up the cloth and shoving his head up into the cage. He couldn't see anything except for the outline of something towering over him, and piercing gold-white eyes staring down at him. America looked back one last time before crawling into the cage and standing in front of the shadow beast.

"Uh, hey there. Wait, it can't understand English." He slapped the side of his face. "Stupid." He grinned up at the... bird probably... and waved.

He watched the bird begin to angle down, the head growing larger and larger the closer it got to his own, a glistening yellow beak towering over him as the eagle stared at him with razor-sharp eyes. He stayed in place, not wanting to scare it somehow or make it turn aggressive. He held his breath as he felt the bird rustle its wings, the fluttering feathers brushing against his skin as chains clinked and shook in front of him. He waited in silence, watching, waiting for the bird to move. He saw the bird arch back up, splaying out its wings and open its wings. An ear-splitting screech split through the air, gusts of wind forcing him to the ground from the force of the flapping wings. He slammed his hands over his ears and curled into a ball to try to muffle the piercing sound, but no matter what he did, nothing could lessen its might. He just tried to wait out the pain, and hope he didn't go deaf in the next two minutes.

When he heard the screeching stop, he slowly tilted his head upward to find the eagle leaning back down, talons scraping across the floor as it stepped forward, the metal of the cage floor torn as though only a piece of paper. He swallowed hard, but kept his ground, watching as the eagle settled down and stared at him. He waited a few more moments before tiptoeing toward the bird, tentatively reaching up and resting a hand on the very edge of the smooth surface of the beak. The eagle made a sort of cooing noise, ruffling its wings and settling into a more comfortable position. He rested his hand there for a moment before stroking the beak, a small smile growing on his lips. He drew a few patterns on the beak, then stepped closer when he felt more relaxed. He hugged the beak as much as he could and nuzzled his cheek against it, a fluttering in his chest brightening.

"I want you for my companion." He pulled away and brightened. "I'm gonna call you Uncle Sam!"

The bird poked his forehead with the end of his beak and tilted his head to the side.

"So how do I make you talk inside my head like dad's lion John Bull?" He put his hands on his hips and frowned from behind his sunglasses, biting on his lip. "Do we form a secret handshake? Do I kiss you and you magically form some kind of prince bond with me? Can I even kiss a bird?" He shrugged and leaned back against the bar behind him. "You don't seem so-"

He screeched as the eagle picked him up by the back of his shirt and hoisted him up high into the air, flailing his arms around and staring down at the ground, which grew further and further away. He looked up at Uncle Sam, his eyes wide as he reached up to hold desperately onto the beak so not to fall. In a split second, he felt himself floating in the air. He crashed down onto a bed of feathers, everything having gone way too fast for him to comprehend. He looked up at Uncle Sam as he turned his head back. He swallowed hard as he watched Uncle Sam yank on the chains, another screeching echoing throughout the room before he heard the snapping of chains far below him, then found himself hidden in some of Uncle Sam's gigantic feathers as he took off into the sky, his wings stretching out far into the distance. America stared down at the ground with sparkling silvery eyes, a bright grin stretching across his face as he cuddled close and giggled with joy. Above him, he heard a mechanical drone, and a few moments later, he and Uncle Sam now flew in midair, hovering at level with the clouds, the feeling of mist running past his face making him smile as he hugged himself close to Uncle Sam.

"How could anyone be so scared of you? You're amazing!"

He gasped and gripped at Uncle Sam's feathers as they suddenly dived straight down, the air slapping against his face as he screamed with joy, uncaring of the fact that the only thing keeping him from falling off lied with how well he gripped Uncle Sam's feathers. Just seconds before they hit the ground, Uncle Sam pulled up and cruised across the ocean's surface, causing water to sprinkle out around them in all directions, glittering in the bright afternoon sun above them. America sighed and snuggled close to Uncle Sam, unable to wipe the bright grin across his face.

"I wish I could speak to you like my father does with his companion." He ran his hand along one of the many feathers surrounding him and sighed, nuzzling into Uncle Sam. "I guess we could try the kissing thing or something if everything else fails. Maybe we could try the-"

He jolted as he heard Uncle Sam screech, then the both of them crashed into the salty water below them. America fell into the water, scrambling for air and coughing as he frantically threw his limbs in all directions to somehow start swimming. He broke the surface with salt burning his eyes, nose, and throat, kicking as hard as he could to stay afloat while he rubbed his eyes. He looked down and saw Uncle Sam hadn't come up for air, dread bubbling up in his chest. He took one last breath before diving into the water, forcing himself to go down further and further. He reached out his hand to try and grab for Uncle Sam, knowing if he didn't let go, he might not come up for air in time. No matter what, however, he didn't want to leave one of his only friends, even if they have only known each other for maybe five minutes at most. To his surprise, Uncle Sam easily flew back up to the surface, holding his shirt in his beak, while trying to take off into the air again.

"Uncle Sam, I thought I lost you!"

Uncle Sam shook his head and made his way back to the building out into the distance, keeping America close.

_Fear not, I could not allow that to happen to such a precious child as yourself._

America gasped and stared up at Uncle Sam with bright silver eyes, shaking from the cold and excitement. "I can hear you! Oh my God, I can hear you!"

 _Yes you can._  Uncle Sam settled back down onto the roof of the building.

"Does that mean we're companions?"

_Yes, America._

"Wow, you even know my name! This is the best day ever!"

...

Canada held up something that looked like a makeshift cigarette, the smell of the thin tendrils of smoke overwhelmingly sweet. He had a grin as he leaned back, glancing back over at Australia as he lounged back across the couch, occasionally pressing the cigarette to his lips and taking a short drag, then letting the smoke blow out in rings, a calm settling over him as he listened to Australia tending to his little animals, including a spider, which now crawled along his arm.

Canada looked back over at Australia, resting the cigarette in Australia's hand when he held it out. Australia took a quick drag himself, angling his head back and blowing the smoke straight up into the air. They both stared up at the blowing fan, and Canada began to smirk.

"Why is there a twirling octopus on the ceiling?"

Australia snorted and broke into giggles, his navy blue and platinum eyes twinkling. "What are you saying?"

"You know what I'm saying." Canada took the cigarette back and took another hit, the satisfying euphoria settling in his mind. "It's a flying octopus. Like a UFO. You know?"

"No. Absolutely not." Australia laughed and laid back against the couch. "I think you've taken too much of that blunt, brotha."

Canada pinched the corners of his eyes and giggled once more. "You know I'm not afraid of a good time."

Australia rolled his eyes and logged into his phone, tapping the screen a few times before beginning to play music in the Sonos speakers around the house. It sounded like some kind of dubstep that robots would be into. Robostep. Hell yeah.

"Brooo, I feel like a fuckin Transformer, look at me." Canada stood up and made the transforming noises, then struck a heroic pose by stepping onto the coffee table. "I... am Optimus Prime."

"I went driving while listening to this, and I swear to God, I was a Transformer and I was fighting the Decepticons like a bloody fuckin badass." Australia laughed and laid down across the entire couch. "Never had such an amazing drive in my entire fuckin life."

The front door opened, and both boys looked up to find New Zealand standing there, reading Lord of the Rings for the fifth time in a row with a bright grin on her face.

"Ay, my nerdy lil sis!" Australia got up and wrapped an arm around her, looking down at the book. "Ya done learning elvish so you can hang out with your bestest brothers?"

"It's called Quenya, Australia. And of course I'm not done learning it. I still have to learn the-"

"Yeah yeah, just come take a hit with us, won't you?" Australia plucked the cigarette from Canada's hands and deposited it in New Zealand's.

"Elen síla lúmenn' omentielvo." New Zealand grinned and took a hit for herself, sighing and letting the smoke hiss out between her teeth, then turning back to the book in front of her.

"What the hell does that even mean?" Canada laughed and rolled onto his stomach on the couch.

"It means 'a star shines over the time of our meeting.'" New Zealand settled into the single seat and closed her eyes, pressing the open book against her face. "Imagine if I actually went to Middle Earth."

"Aren't you technically Middle Earth though? That  _is_  why people called you 'Middle Zealand' in that one movie." Canada grinned as Australia laughed, slapping his forehead with the palm of his hand.

"Oh, shut the hell up, the both of you. Let me nerd out in peace."

"With us around?"

"Never."

"Fuck you too, then."

The three settled into silence, then New Zealand spoke up again. "Hey, weren't you supposed to have Ukraine here, Canada?"

Canada coughed and rubbed his now brightening cheeks. "What? Where did you hear that? I never said that. Do you remember me saying that?" He turned to Australia, but didn't give him a chance to speak. "I don't remember saying that."

"Wow, you sound more nervous than Zealand does in public."

"Shut the hell up, Aussie! I am  _not_  nervous!"

"Yeah, sure, keep telling yourself that, nervous wreck."

"Fine. Maybe I will." New Zealand went back to having her face shoved into her copy of  _Fellowship of the Ring_.

Canada sighed and shook his head, taking another hit and staring at the ceiling. "Yo, Aussie, play some Thomas and Friends."

Australia laughed and scrolled through his phone, tapping it a few times, and the earrape version of Thomas the Tank Engine blasted from all angles, making New Zealand scream in disgust while Australia and Canada cackled and howled with laughter.


	14. Life

America let through a shuddering breath. He couldn’t keep doing this. He couldn’t keep pretending.

He looked up through the window of his truck at some of the participants of the party, and his eyes landed on Ireland. He felt that shameful fluttering in his chest, just like An- just like he felt all those years ago. He wanted to curl into a ball and hide himself away from everything. He didn’t want it to repeat, not again.

He hid his head in his arms and held back frustrated sobs. He hated this. He wanted to just stop feeling. Why did he have to feel this way? Why? Why why why why why?

He clawed at his arms as tears burned against his skin. Even  _if_  Ireland accepted his… preferences… he would  _never_  reciprocate anything. It would only be manipulation and deception, and he couldn’t go through that again. He couldn’t handle another situation. He couldn’t trust anyone with being that close. Disaster ensued when he allowed someone to get that close.

He heard a soft knock against the window next to him. He jolted up and looked through the tinted windows to find Ireland - of  _course_ \- standing there with a worried expression. How come he couldn’t catch a break?  _Nothing_  worked out for him!

He wiped his eyes free of tears and pushed open the door. Ireland grinned at him, though that worried look in his green and orange eyes didn’t leave.

“Is something wrong? I haven’t seen you in a few hours.”

America looked away and waved Ireland off. “I’m fine. I’m just thinking.”

“America.” Ireland settled down next to America and wrapped his arms around him. “I know you can’t be fine. What’s going on?”

America dug his fingers into his legs as that shameful flutter invaded his chest again. “It’s nothing.”

Ireland sighed. “America, I know you’re not fine.” He shut the door and took hold of America’s hands, causing more of that shameful fluttering to rush through his chest.

America squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. “No. I’m just-“

Ireland pulled him into a hug and rubbed his back. “Then just hug me.”

America clutched at Ireland and whimpered. He didn’t want a repeat of the fifties. He didn’t want someone to back him into a corner again. He just wanted to be normal. He just wanted to stay with the ones everyone around him told him to stay with. Why couldn’t he just be  _normal_?

He felt himself begin to shake. He felt his eyes sting with tears. He felt his throat close up with unannounced sobs. No, he couldn’t cry, he won’t. He has to stay strong and act normal. He has to act normal like everyone else. He buried his face into Ireland’s shoulder and strangled out a whimper, and he felt his resolve crumbling. Tears sprang from behind his sunglasses, and pathetic sounds escaped his throat. He hated this. He hated being so vulnerable, so weak, and so… so  _shameful_. Why? Why did he have to live this way?

He felt Ireland’s hand play with his hair as he hush him. Although he knew Ireland meant it as a comforting gesture, it only made his internal turmoil worsen. It only reminded him of their close proximity, and how  _filthy_  he was. How utterly disheartening and disgraceful his existence was to him and his family.

“Is something wrong?”

He shook his head into Ireland’s shoulder. “Not at all.”

“May I ask why you’re crying then?”

He gave another shake of his head. He couldn’t risk losing the only one who he… who…

America squeezed Ireland closer with tears now staining Ireland’s shirt. He grasped at Ireland like he could disappear in the blink of an eye and leave him completely alone. He hated it. He hated how he felt. He hated everything. Why couldn’t he just be  _normal_?

“America,” Ireland started, resting his forehead against America’s shoulder, “you know I don’t intend to abandon you over whatever it is you’re thinking.”

America let a watery chuckle slip through. “You can’t know for sure.”

“And you can’t know either unless you tell me.” Ireland ran a hand along America’s spine. “So?”

America dug his fingers into Ireland’s back and pressed his face closer. “I can’t. Not like this. Not with this.”

“Why is that?” Ireland pulled back to look at him. “Is it because of something that happened during the party? Or-”

“No, it’s-” America sighed and hugged himself. “Never mind. It’s nothing to worry about. I’m just…” he clutched at his arms and looked away. “I can’t.”

“Give me a chance. I promise you can trust me.” Ireland rested a hand on America’s shoulder with an encouraging smile. “Just trust me.”

America couldn’t help the sudden flashes of A… of his past flooding his mind at those words, and he immediately tensed back up. “I can’t.”

“I promise not to tell anyone what happens in this truck. What happens here, stays here.”

America bit down on his pinkie and stared out the window as he debated with himself. Can he trust him? Should he tell the one who he grew close to about his predicament? Can he risk exposing himself to someone who he confided in? He didn’t want a repeat of the fifties, and he didn’t want his States, or any of the rest of the world, to find out about it. No matter what he did in this situation, it always seemed like the wrong choice. He couldn’t do a single thing right when it came to this, could he?

He chanced a glance at Ireland from behind his sunglasses and found bright green and orange eyes gleaming with concern. He wanted nothing more than to have someone to trust. He wanted to have someone close to him again. But, he knew he couldn’t risk it. Not again. Not after the Cold War. But, what if he could? They were in a peacetime - somewhat anyway - and he had been allies with Ireland for quite a long while now. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, he… he trusted Ireland. Maybe too much.

He grabbed for Ireland’s shoulders, as though expecting Ireland to disappear, and chose his next words very,  _very_  carefully. “Ireland, I…” he bit his lip. “Ireland, I can’t stand you leaving over something so disgraceful.”

Ireland frowned in confusion, but stayed silent, much to the… maybe disappointment… of America.

“I couldn’t handle it if you ended up distancing yourself over something I have tried to suppress since… well, forever.”

He saw a spark of something in Ireland’s eyes. Maybe realization? Possibly… disgust? Fear? Dread?

“Ireland…”

He swallowed hard and squeezed his eyes shut. He had one last chance to back out. One last chance to keep himself isolated and his friends close to him. If he chooses to speak these next words, there’s no turning back. Everything beyond this moment, should he choose to push forward, will change forever.

“Ireland, I’m not… I’m not just straight.”

Before Ireland could say anything, he rambled on so to somehow explain himself.

“I know I shouldn’t be, and I know it’s wrong, and I’ve been trying to change it since I was younger, but I can’t. I’ve tried everything, but I can’t change it. I’ve tried conversion therapy. I’ve tried staying exclusively to women. I’ve tried only having relationships with women. I can’t do it. I’ve tried everything. And I understand if you don’t want to continue with this friendship. I wouldn’t want you to force yourself to stay with someone so disgraceful. I get it if you can’t allow yourself to stay with someone like me. I just need you to know that I can’t control it, and that I want to have you by my side, but I don’t want you to ruin your own reputation. I also don’t want you to feel pressured to stay, especially after what I have said, and what I’ve been afraid to say for years now. I admire your company, Ireland. I’ve liked your company ever since we finally truly met, and I’ve always liked you being around. I wanted to keep it from you and keep you as a friend, because I value you as an amazing ally. I find you admirable, and I want to continue our friendship. I understand if you’re uncomfortable, and I get it if you don’t want to resume any sort of formalities after tonight, and I wouldn’t blame you if you decided to tell the world about this, or blackmail me, I get it. Just please, allow me to have a single day in peace before you bring me down. I’ll tell you anything you want, anything you need, just please give me one last day to keep to myself, one last day with my brothers and sisters and States.”

America stopped his rant before he could continue further. He had tears streaming down his face by this point, and he didn’t even register how his voice changed throughout the whole ordeal, how his voice switched between accents on a dime, from Southern, to Northwestern, to New Yorker, to Midwestern, and even to British. He felt his chest somehow feel lighter, but the feeling easily crushed itself under the weight of everything else he felt. He regretted it. He dreaded Ireland’s response. He hated feeling so trapped and vulnerable. He wanted to take it all back, but he had to stay strong. He had to… to trust Ireland. Ireland had all the power as of now, and he had to lie down for the one he gave that power to.

He waited in a painful silence. He watched Ireland roll over the information, and realize the weight of America’s words as he gradually sifted through them. He sat in agony and despair, the urge to run, to break away, to do  _anything_  growing stronger the more Ireland’s eyes shined. Finally, after a millennia of waiting, he saw Ireland open his mouth to speak. At first, no sound came out, as though he couldn’t get the words to escape his throat, but after a few moments of trying to find something to say, he began. America braced himself for the worst, involuntarily clutching at Ireland’s arms as he waited for the verbalizing of the decision of his fate.

“May I see your eyes?”

America’s hands shakily reached up and plucked off his sunglasses, and he stared at Ireland with watery, silvery white eyes. He felt his body glitch, shift, and twitch, and he once again felt that blazing cross clamped around his neck, that figure scarred upon his wrist, and that hesitant band of pink, yellow, and blue upon his arm, all three somehow dominating over everything else upon his skin, except for the Confederate ‘X’ which now forced its way onto his chest. Ireland stared at his now jumbled mess of a figure, first staring at the cross, then the figure, the ‘x’, the bands of the three colors, and finally his desperate, terrored eyes. Ireland watched him and reached up to rest his hands on either side of America’s face, his thumbs brushing away the tears which stained America’s cheeks, and giving him a soft smile.

“You aren’t a disgrace, America.” Ireland moved one of his hands to rest on the arm bands, ripples of his flag dancing across America’s skin. “This is a part of who you are. You can’t change it. And that’s okay. You don’t need to convert yourself, and you definitely don’t need to feel like you need to hide it from me.” Ireland moved his hand back up to the other side of his face. “It’s not healthy to isolate yourself like you have, and I’m glad I’m trustworthy enough to tell.” Ireland pulled America into another hug, which America hesitantly returned, like he expected Ireland to disappear at any moment. “I’m not going to blackmail you, and I’m not going to tell anyone unless you want me to. You are entitled to your own privacy, and I plan on protecting that.” Ireland carded his hand through America’s hair and held him close. “And, I agree with you. I admire you as well.”

America tried to say something, but Ireland cut him off by covering his mouth.

“Not right now. You spoke your piece, let me speak mine.” Ireland took his hand away and held onto America’s arms. “You are an amazing person, America, and I want to tell you that I find you interesting. More than that, in fact. I reciprocate your feelings for me. Can you let me get closer to you? Can you allow me in?”

America clutched at Ireland’s shirt and squeezed his eyes shut. “Ireland, I…” he let out a shuddering breath. “Ireland, I want to trust you. I do. I want to be close to you.”

“So let me.” Ireland took hold of America’s face and brushed his fingers along America’s cheeks. “Let me get close to you.”

“I  _can’t_ , Ireland. I can’t trust anyone. I can’t let myself get close to anyone. Please.”

“Why not? What’s stopping you?” Ireland rested his forehead against America’s.

“I’ve done this once already.” America curled into Ireland’s chest. “I can’t do it, I-”

“What do you mean you’ve done this?” Ireland played with his hair. “What happened?”

“ _Russia happened_ , that’s what.” America pulled back and gripped at Ireland’s chest. “I can’t trust anyone because Russia ruined my life! I can’t trust anyone because of that  _immoral madman_!”

“America, calm down.” Ireland brushed a hand along the side of his face, calming the frantic switching, zapping, and flickering of the colors and flags flashing across his skin. “You’re alright. Russia isn’t here anymore. It’s just me.”

America buried his face in Ireland’s shoulder. “Right. Sorry.”

Ireland hugged him close and played with his hair. “I don’t want you to feel trapped anymore. I promise you can trust me. Just give me one chance.” Ireland nuzzled into America’s neck. “I promise I can make things right.”

America gripped at Ireland’s shirt even harder than before. “I want to, Ireland. I want to.”

“Then give me one chance.” Ireland pressed a light kiss to America’s cheek after a moment’s hesitation. “I promise I can help.”

Should he allow Ireland to get close? Should he let someone have an advantage over him like this? He can do it, since he already told Ireland about this. He should be… be fine. It’s alright. He can allow Ireland to get close. They have been close for too long to not give him this opportunity.

America took a slow breath and backed away. “Y… Yes.”

Ireland smiled, his bright green and soft orange eyes glittering. “Thank you, America.”

He nodded and curled into Ireland’s hold. “I don’t know why you’re thanking me, but… you’re welcome.”

Ireland took hold of America’s sunglasses and rested them back on America’s face. “You’re gonna be okay, America. You’re gonna be okay.”

America couldn’t help but smile. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, America.” Ireland pressed a kiss to America’s nose. “I don’t plan to tell anyone unless you want me to. Do you want me to leave you alone tonight?”

“No, just…” America curled into Ireland’s chest and wrapped his arms around him. “Just stay with me. Come home with me.”

Ireland snorted and played with America’s hair. “In what context?”

America stayed silent a moment, then started chuckling. “And I thought I had a dirty mind. I think you might have just taken the cake.”

Ireland and America broke off into more giggles.

“Just come home with me, you dork.” America shoved Ireland’s face away and climbed into the driver’s seat, wiping his face and sniffing as he turned the keys in his car.

“Whatever you say, America.” Ireland settled into his seat. “Whatever you say.”

America kicked the truck into gear and drove away from the party, that same fluttering in his chest now lighter and happier than before.

(I feel like I've written this kind of scenario a lot but eh. Should I branch out more? Probably. Will I? Probably. Will I do it now? Probably not.)

...

America pushed open the front door and rubbed at his face, sleep threatening to overtake him while he stood. He pushed the door closed behind him and heard the lock click automatically. He walked further into the house and let his gym bag fall to the ground. He collapsed onto the couch and laid back to try and fall asleep after such a long night of working, rubbing his sore legs and arms to try and help the aching a bit.

He jolted upright when he heard a blood-curdling scream from upstairs, which caused his head to feel light as he stood up from his place on the couch to respond. He stumbled a few steps, fatigue finally starting to affect him after three days without a good night's sleep as he rubbed at his dull silver eyes from behind his sunglasses. He palmed open the door with the name plate 'OK' above it to find Oklahoma looking scared out of his mind, shaking and squeezed into a tight ball in the corner of his bed.

"Hey, Okes." He settled next to his fifth youngest child, playing with his hair. "Did you have a bad dream?"

Oklahoma sniffled and nodded as he stuck himself to America's side, refusing to unlatch his grip. "I-I thought you were gone because you disappeared, and I didn't want you to leave. It was so scary. I lost you in a black triangle storm."

"I'm sorry you were so scared, Oklahoma." He hugged his son close and nuzzled his cheek with his. "I'm safe now. Do you want to watch some TV with me to help you sleep?"

He felt Oklahoma nod against his chest. He smiled and picked his son up, walking down the stairs to get back to the living room. He turned on the TV and flipped it to one of the kid's channels. Reruns of shows like Ducktales and Tailspin played in the background as he held Oklahoma with one hand and propped his head up with the other, his eyes fighting to stay open. Just as he felt himself finally drifting off, he jolted out of it when he heard the Motorola ring. He refused to let through an audible groan as he picked up the phone, sniffing and rubbing his face as he tried to ready himself to speak.

"Hello?"

"Hey, America," his older brother greeted. "Sorry to wake you up so early, but I needed to ask you a question about this morning."

"Mmm, yeah? What is it?" He rubbed his eyes from behind his sunglasses.

"My kids wanted to have some of their cousins over for a sleepover. Is it alright if you send some our way tomorrow?"

"Sure, which ones do you want? I can ask them when they wake up tomorrow." He laid his head against the back of the couch, begging for God to grant him at least an hour or two of sleep in peace.

"Whichever ones you want to send. Now go to bed, you need it."

America chuckled tiredly. "Thanks, Canada. Really appreciate it. I'll see you in the morning." He ended the phone call, then relaxed into the couch again.

"Dada, why do you have a bite mark on your shoulder?"

America sighed mentally and pulled his shirt back over his shoulder before playing with Oklahoma's hair. "It's nothing, Oklahoma, don't worry. I just got bit by an animal on the way home, but I fought it off."

"But you said that two days ago. Does the same animal keep attacking you?"

"Yeah, but it's okay. I keep winning the fight." He gave Oklahoma a tired smile. "It's alright. Are you getting tired again?"

Oklahoma nodded and snuggled into America's chest. "Can I sleep with you?"

He hummed and nuzzled Oklahoma's cheek. "Yes you can. Do you want to sleep here, or in my room?"

"Your room, please. Your bed is always really squishy." Oklahoma grinned up at America hopefully, his tan and sky blue eyes twinkling.

America smiled and pulled Oklahoma into his arms once again, turning off the TV and making his way to the bedroom. He set Oklahoma on one side while he settled on his own, falling asleep as soon as his head rested against the pillow.

He woke up the next morning to more screaming and fighting from downstairs, probably over something like skiing or snowboarding again. He tried to press his face into the pillow further to block out the sound, but found it impossible. So, instead of falling asleep like he wanted to, he just got up and walked down to the kitchen, feeling pretty crumby after not having brushed his teeth or showered after the previous night. He felt sore and exhausted, but he forced himself to put on a smile for his kids' sakes. He walked into the kitchen, pulling Utah away from Colorado for the first time today and standing between them while he made breakfast, giving them yet another talk about how they shouldn't fight with their siblings. He had on many different stoves, cracking dozens of eggs at a time and lining up plates full of loaves of bread so he could toast them in the twenty five different toasters. He eventually had breakfast ready, letting the older ones dish for themselves after he finished plating for the younger ones.

"So," America started, looking out at all of his children as they ate their breakfasts, "Uncle Canada wanted to know if you guys want to go see your cousins for a sleepover. Do any of you want to go?"

The older ones mostly offered excuses as to why they couldn't go and left the kitchen to do their own thing in their rooms after putting their dishes away, while the younger ones all shouted out in agreement, especially the ones around their cousins' ages. He called up Canada and told him the ones making the trip, then sighed in relief when a knock sounded at the door. He pushed open the door and smiled at his older brother, standing to the side while some of his States gathered up sleepover supplies and piled into the van Canada had parked out front.

"Thank you, Canada. It really does mean a lot." America offered a tired smile.

"No problem. Now go to bed. Get some rest before you go to work again tonight. Have a bit of a self care day."

"If you say so." America smiled and stood back. "I'll see you later."

"See you later." Canada walked away as America closed the door.

Canada let the States into his home after driving a little bit to get there, the children stampeding in to greet their cousins for a full day of playing in the gigantic backyard, or just to play some video games like Tetris or Super Mario Three in the living room. He watched the children play their games in the back from the porch, sipping on his coffee and reading his book while he basked in the sun.

"Uncle Canada! Uncle Canada!"

"Daddy!"

Canada looked down to see Oklahoma holding Alberta's hand, both grinning bright. "Yes?"

"I'm gonna marry Alberta!"

Canada held back a chuckle. "Oh really? Why's that?"

"I love her so so so so much! I like to play with her a lot."

"And Oklahoma plays a lot of cool games with me!" Alberta bounced up and down, grinning bright.

"That's unfair!" Saskatchewan whined, crossing her arms and pouting. "I wanna get married too."

"We can all get married!" Oklahoma grinned, looking proud of himself for figuring out how to solve the problem.

"But then I won't get to play with you, Oklahoma!" Alberta gripped at Oklahoma's arm and gave him puppy eyes. "Marry just me!"

"No, just me!" Saskatchewan glared at Alberta. "I never get to play with him."

"That's why he should marry me and not you!"

"How about we play a game to see who gets to marry me!"

Both girls cheered in approval and followed Oklahoma to another part of the backyard. Canada couldn't help but laugh. How cute. He looked back into the house through the window to see the older kids still jamming away at Super Mario Three, frantically smashing buttons and yelling at the TV before reluctantly handing the controller over to the next person playing.

“Jump jump jump jump jump!”

A chorus of “Noooooo!” came afterward, and Ontario passed the controller reluctantly to West Virginia. Nebraska, Quebec, New Brunswick, Nova Scotia, Manitoba, Northwest, Nevada, Kansas, Colorado, Edward, and Columbia all stared in awe as West Virginia ran through the level, then another, and another.

Canada looked back over into the backyard and found Yukon trying to play with Oklahoma and his sisters, but found himself left out of the group. Instead of pouting about it, he decided to read a book next to a tree along the river bank, listening to the birds chirp and the running water.

He heard the door open up next to him. "Hey, Dad?"

He turned over with a hum in question. "Yes, Nova?"

"Newfoundland, Hawaii, and Labrador are awake. New and Lab are screaming again." Nova Scotia smiled up at his father, then walked back inside.

Canada hummed and made his way into the house, following the sound of the screaming and pushing open the door to see the twins Newfoundland and Labrador screaming, while Hawaii just cried and clutched her doll in the corner. He held up three small lollipops, hoping it would be enough to calm the three down as he approached.

"Good morning, three preciouses." He kneeled down in front of his twins and gave them their own lollipops, then turned back to Hawaii and gave her one. "Did you sleep okay?"

Newfoundland and Labrador stopped screaming and sucked on their own lollipops, immediately pacified. They both nodded, and Hawaii held up her hands to Canada.

"Up?"

Canada grinned and picked her up, nuzzling her cheek like he watched America do. She giggled and snuggled into Canada's neck, still holding onto the doll. "Adorable."

Hawaii buried her face in his neck. "Where's Alaska?"

"I don't know, sweetheart." Canada held her close. "Would you like to go look for him?"

"Can I?"

"Of course you can."

Hawaii squirmed out of his grip and sprinted out of the room, trying her best to go and find her closest sibling. "Alaska! Alaska!"

...

America watched from backstage as the crowd clapped and whistled out in anticipation when the song started. He looked out to the other side as the clicking of high heels echoed from the wings, and a moment later, Mexico walked out in a pure white, poofy, flowing traditional dress and holding it by both her hands, the crowd erupting into cheers and howls. He felt a bright fluttering feeling in his chest as she looked back toward him for just a second with a bright, anxious smile, to which he grinned and gave her a thumbs up back as a form of encouragement.

She started the beginning of their routine, bringing her arm up and around with the dress as she twirled, then held up her hands to reveal a small umbrella, twirling around and spinning upon her tiptoes, then tossing it into the air. When she caught it again, the top of her dress now rested on the floor in front of her, a skin-tight, strapless black Sweetheart shirt beneath it, the stomach cut out of it and held together by delicate lace threads of red. The crowd screamed and clapped in approval, whistles sharply cutting through the cheering.

She took hold of the silver pole next to her and swirled around it, sliding lower and lower until she reached the floor below her, the skirt having danced off and laid out around the pole at some point between spinning and landing. She now revealed that she wore a thin leotard with the stomach cut out and daintily laced together all the way down her front. Around her waist, a thin, tutu-like red fabric splayed out behind her, belted onto her by a band of bright red satin.

She pulled herself up off the ground as the beat began to pick up, the sound shaking the ground and clinking the glasses of put down drinks. She easily moved across the stage and around the cold metal pole, the crowd in front of her going wild. America listened to the music carefully, waiting for his cue, and when it came, he jumped into action.

As she fell to the floor, he slid beneath where she descended and caught her within his arms. He pulled her up into a dancing position and stepped once, twice, then pinned her back against the pole. He swung his hips and moved lower in time with Mexico's own - causing hoots and 'oh's of surprise and satisfaction to come from the audience - then brought her back up. He reached above her head and grabbed the pole, and from there, lifted himself off the ground and swung to her side. She dove out of the way just in time as he wrapped his legs around the bar and crawled higher and higher. As soon as the climax of the song had reached, he now stuck off the bar by wrapping his legs like a pretzel around the bar and reached out into the audience, holding his position like that while the crowd cheered and screamed for both of them, faceless bodies jumping excitedly. He twirled himself down and settled on the ground, saluting the audience and grabbing whatever clothes still remained on stage, then walked off with one final blowing kiss to the people out into the distance.

As soon as America walked backstage, he moved to his and Mexico's changing room, palming open the door, and grinning when he saw Mexico there waiting for him. She laughed and jumped into his arms, her bright green and vibrant red eyes shimmering. "You did so good!"

"You did too! You looked amazing." He held her close, pride and leftover adrenaline lighting up his chest. "You didn't look nervous at all. You looked so good." He pressed kisses along her cheek and jaw, causing her to giggle and bury her face in his chest.

"Thank you." She kissed his chest and grinned against his skin. "So, about that date..."

"Oh, right! Here, let's go home and get showered first. Then we can go out and do something."

"We might have to get dressed first." Mexico pulled at her shirt, then gestured to him. "We're not exactly fit for public appearances."

"Yeah, you're probably right." He grinned and threw on some clothes while Mexico carefully slid herself into another dress, this one much more casual.

The two walked out of the dressing room and into the street behind the club, their arms linked together, laughing and smiling, and walking close to each other. They walked to America's home on the other side of town, prepping themselves up for the night, and America giving his sleeping children one last good night before walking into the living room, where Mexico stood in the middle, listening to the stereo in the living room.

America pulled Mexico close to his chest with one hand rested on her hip and the other holding her hand. Mexico sighed and placed her hand on America's shoulder, lacing her fingers with America's and swaying to the music in the background. America hummed along to the music, staring into Mexico's eyes with his own, no black glass barrier in sight, a soft smile upon his face as he gazed at her. He felt his heart flutter as she smiled at him, and twirled her around in his arms while they circled around the room, their steps perfectly in time with one another. He nuzzled her nose with his, and she giggled and kissed his chin, causing his cheeks to glow a soft pink. He wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted her high into the air, causing her to squeal in approval and grip at his shoulders, her dress flying out behind her in a flurry of bright colors as he brought her back down, holding her close, a soft smile settled on his face.

"I have something to ask you, Mexico." He rested his forehead against hers.

"Anything you need." She pressed a light kiss to his nose, causing more of that pink to dust his cheeks.

He took hold of her right hand between both of his. "Mexico, I want to tell you that I have been debating this for a while, and I felt that after so much time together, that it would fit for us." He stooped down onto his bruised knee, pulling a small box out of his coat pocket and holding it out for her. "Mexico, will you-"

-¡Sí! Sí sí sí sí sí, ¡me casaré contigo!- She slammed into him and they both fell to the ground, both of them laughing and crying as they hugged each other.

-Gracias. Gracias, mi amor, gracias.- America squeezed her close, a bright grin stretching across his face.


	15. You Killed My Daughter - M

WARNING, THIS CONTAINS SENSITIVE TOPICS SUCH AS MURDER, VIOLENCE, SEX SLAVES, TORTURE, AND ABUSE. IF YOU CANNOT READ THESE TOPICS WITHOUT TRIGGERING PAST EXPERIENCES, THIS CHAPTER IS NOT FOR YOU.

...

Hawaii held onto her little doll and bounced it as she made her yelling noises, rubbing her face in the fabric. America took her into his arms and played with her hair, causing her to make another few sounds and lean into him. He began to braid her hair, humming to her and calming her down. She eventually settled back and put down her arms, stopping her squirming, and laying down against his chest. He nuzzled her cheek and held her close to him as he felt her finally relax, meaning she most definitely fell asleep.

"Time for sleep, my princess," he whispered. "I'll see you in the morning."

He walked upstairs, through halls of the once full house, and into the bedroom while holding his only remaining family close to himself. He rested her on their bed and tucked her in, pressing a kiss to her forehead and playing with her hair, before reluctantly pulling away and walking back to the kitchen. He popped open the cabinet and grabbed the bottle of vodka from inside, holding a glass under it and pouring himself a drink with the last of the bottle's contents. He rested the bottle back inside the cabinet, then popped the cabinet door back into place. He turned around and settled into a chair, staring off into the distance and sipping on his drink every once in a while.

He picked up his head and set his empty glass down on the table, then stood up and walked toward the front door. He swiped his keys from the little shelf by the door and walked out of the house, locking it behind him and shoving his hands into his pockets. He walked over to his shining black motorcycle and ran his hands over the leather, pressing into the seat and letting through a soft sigh. He traced over the small inscription right along the top of the seat and curled his hand into a fist above it.

"Come on, Love, lets go get to the store. I need another drink, and we're almost out of milk and cereal for Hawaii." He settled onto the motorcycle and started it up, then made his way toward the Walmart downtown.

He stopped in the parking lot just a few moments later and turned off the motorcycle. He walked inside and went for the milk and cereal first, purchasing those before walking to the liquor store next door and grabbing another three bottles of vodka, bourbon, and whiskey. He eventually got back to his motorcycle, his hands shoved into his pockets, and the bags hanging from his arms on either side.

As he grabbed his keys and took them out of his pocket, he saw a man approach from the corner of his eye and stand right in front of him, grinning at him.

"How much for the bike?"

America only scoffed and mounted his bike, resting his hand on the inscription before gripping the handlebars. "She isn't for sale."

He saw the grin slowly form a line as he started up the bike. "I'm sorry?"

"I said," he throttled the engine, "she isn't for sale."

The kid stood in front of his bike and crossed his arms. «У всего есть цена.»

America arched a brow, suppressing the spark of rage he felt at that reaction. An entitled Russian, hm? «Не этот.»

The Russian boy looked taken aback, maybe even at a loss for words. America gave him no time to think of something, and sped off into the distance, riding right toward his home without a second thought. Hawaii’s well being and safety kept him occupied more so than some entitled Russian boy. He parked his motorcycle in the garage and put the groceries in their set places, his hands in his pockets. He pushed open his and Hawaii’s bedroom door and pulled off his jacket, then rested on the bed and curled around his sleeping daughter. He played with her hair and placed her doll back into her arms.

“Good night, my princess.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead, then relaxed back against the pillows and closed his eyes.

A few moments later, he heard the shattering of glass in front of him, and he snapped his eyes open. He heard a door kick open behind him, and he felt Hawaii flinch awake. She started making distressed yelling noises, and America held her closer, trying to hush her despite knowing full well that she had no understanding of what he said. He heard shouting to get off the bed, and to shut up his daughter. He slowly sat up and settled back down on the floor, staring at the masked man with a familiar gold ring in front of him, holding her close to his chest, and trying his best to stay calm and not break into a fit of rage.

“Where the hell are the fucking keys!?”

America played with his daughter’s hair as she yelled and rubbed her face in her doll’s fabric, narrowing his eyes at the mask from behind his sunglasses.

“Give me the  _fucking_  keys, or you’re gonna fucking regret it,  _old man_.” The one in front of him cocked the gun and pointed it toward his daughter.

He clutched his daughter closer, flashes of decades earlier bursting in his mind, before he snapped back into reality and hid her under his hold. Before he could even react, a blunt pain smacked across the back of his head, his vision going hazy and his balance disappearing from his realm of knowledge. He felt himself falling to the floor, and to protect his daughter, he fell onto his side as a last resort. He heard his daughter yelling and felt her rubbing her face in his arms, her cries getting more and more terrified as he heard footsteps knock against the floor and tap into his temple. He heard muffled shouting, mostly in Russian, and blurred figures scurrying throughout the room. One translation stood out to him, however, amidst the chaos.

_Shut the retarded dog up!_

He heard the distant sound of a gunshot, and then felt the squirming of his child - his  _only remaining child_  - cease all movements in just a split second. He tried to pick his head up and pull Hawaii closer, muttering the word ‘no’ over and over again, then felt the world grow black with another blinding pain.

.

Soviet leaned back in his chair and stared out the window, puffing his cigar as he lost himself in thought. He brushed his gold-ringed fingers through his mustache and around to his beard. He barely acknowledged the bursting open of the doors, then the laughing and stumbling of his sons. He let the cigar drift away from his mouth, then blew the smoke into the air around him.

“Did you see his fa-” Ukraine wheezed. “Did you see his  _face_? He was all like ‘no no no no no’ with that stupid look and-”

“ _Ukraine_ ,” Russia snapped. He then turned to Soviet, bowing slightly and pulling at his rings. “Father, you called us here?”

Soviet flipped his cigar between his finger and continued to stare out the window. He pressed the butt of his cigar to the ashtray next to his hand, the cigar hissing and snapping before dying out. He exhaled slowly, his golden eyes smoldering, then tilted his head in the direction of his sons. He saw them staring at him expectantly, watching his every move, waiting for his response, whatever he decided to say.

“I got a call from the West.” Soviet’s voice lacked any sort of emotion. He sat up straighter, his fingers moving back to brush through his beard. A tense silence filled the room as he stared out the window, either struggling to contain his fury, or contemplating some sort of difficult business deal. “A call from one of my associates.”

“Father, I know we messed up in-”

“It matters not what you have done wrong in the Caribbean district,” he muttered, resting his chin under the backs of his hands. He grabbed for another cigar and pulled out his lighter, flicking it and holding the flame to the end of it. He puffed his cigar once, twice, then pulled the stick from his mouth, hissing out smoke from between his teeth. “Where did you get that black Harley-Davidson LiveWire?”

He heard Ukraine scoff. “I just got it from some guy in a house. He just had a little retarded girl in his room. She didn’t stop that annoying yelling until I shut the stupid dog up with a bullet.”

Soviet puffed his cigar and blew the blood red smoke into the air. “Come here, my boy.”

Ukraine stepped forward with a laugh in his voice. “The stupid old fuck didn’t see it coming.”

Soviet flicked two fingers over to the man in the corner, who nodded and poured them both a drink. He held out his hand and the man rested the cold glass within it, then handed the other drink to Ukraine. Ukraine, of course, took the drink and greedily drank it down, sighing as the burning liquid slid down his throat.

“Oh, Отец, you should have seen that fucked up little girl. She was squealing and rubbing her face like you wouldn’t  _believe_.” Ukraine laughed as Soviet stood up from his chair, setting down his glass upon his desk. “And the old man only held her while I held a gun to her head. He was whining and holding her like she was something special. Yeah, she’s special alri-”

Soviet threw his fist against his son’s stomach, sending him flying to the floor and spitting up the vodka he had only drank down a few seconds ago. Soviet looked unphased, plucking the handkerchief from his suit and whipping it toward the floor next to Ukraine’s hand. “Clean that up.”

«Да,» he muttered, his voice sounding like he struggled to breathe. He coughed and sputtered as he gripped at his stomach with one hand while the other wiped the liquid mess upon the floor. “Отец, I did the retarded girl a God damn fav-”

“That retarded girl,” Soviet interrupted, his voice retaining that same neutral tone as he gripped Ukraine’s hair and yanked up his head, “just so happens to be the last child of  _Washington_.” Soviet’s eyes burned a fiery gold, heated with a barely contained fury, which singed Ukraine’s hair and burned against his scalp. Soviet slammed Ukraine’s head down against the floor and stood back up, turning away and sipping from his drink, trying to calm his rage. He took up his cigar once more and puffed it, letting the smoke mellow him out into a smolder. “Россия, come here.”

He heard steps hesitantly making their way toward him, then to his side. “Yes, Отец?”

He rested a heavy hand on Russia’s shoulder, and felt him flinch under his hold. He took another slow breath and squeezed his son’s shoulder. “I need you to get me my phone.”

“O-Отец, I can fix this.” Ukraine stumbled as he stood up and tried to speak to his father. “I can kill some old-”

“You cannot fix this,  _boy_.” Soviet turned to his son and stared down at him, puffing a plume of blood red smoke into his face. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done? You have sent death to our doorstep. You have unleashed Manhattan upon all of us.”

Ukraine’s eyes watered, but he did his best not to react as Soviet gripped his hair and tilted his head up further.

“You just killed the only remaining family of fucking Washington, the man who once killed ten men with nothing but a fucking  _comb._ ”

Soviet gripped Ukraine’s neck and hoisted him into the air, causing his son to flail and and grip at his wrists.

“You just doomed us all to DEFCON One, you insolent fool.” He dropped his son to the floor and turned away, then picked up the phone Russia now held within his hands, to which he dialed four numbers.

.

America brushed the hair from Hawaii’s little face with a shaky hand, his face stained with tears, and his chest heavy with grief. He gently lifted her up and took her to the bathroom, where he cleaned off the remaining blood from her head and hair, and closed her eyes. He murmured sweet nothings to her, knowing she couldn’t hear, and held her close to his chest, unwanted memories assaulting his vision.

_America jolted up when he heard a gunshot from downstairs. He scrambled to get out of bed and threw open his door before sprinting down the stairs and stopping dead in his tracks._

_In front of him, all fifty of his children and beautiful wife stood with masked men behind them, guns to their heads, and Japan in front of all of them, hand held up, waiting to give the signal to fire._

_“Greetings, America.”_

_America growled and lifted up his gun, causing the men to cock their own and press the metal to his family’s heads._

_“Ah ah ah, not so fast.” Japan held up both his hands now, stalking closer. “I advise you put your gun down, ワシントン. Lest you wish to have your family taken away.”_

He descended the stairs with heavy steps. He listened to the deafening silence. He felt his chest begin to burn. He felt his resolve begin to harden.

_“What do you want from me?” he muttered. “Why have you done this to me?”_

_“You won’t allow supplies to my district, and I’m not exactly happy with your choice to keep that up, despite my polite requests.”_

_-America, mi amor, n- Mexico choked as the man holding a gun to her head squeezed her throat, effectively shutting her up._

_“Mama!” Hawaii screamed, squirming around and trying to reach her mother, as did the older ones._

_“Take your fucking hand off her,” he warned, squeezing the handle of his gun by his side._

_“Oh, you still have some fight in you I see.”_

He pushed open the door and laid his daughter upon the ground, then took up a shovel and stabbed the grass next to the Hibiscus flowers, Hawaii’s favorite kinds.

_Japan chuckled and took a step forward. “I will be taking what I want today, and that is my wish for justice. Do you know how I’m going to take that justice?”_

_America lifted his gun, tears threatening to spill from behind his sunglasses. “Japan, I swear, don’t do this. You have a family too. Don’t give me a reason to join this war.”_

He pressed one last kiss to Hawaii’s forehead, then rested her little body down into the crevasse he made, laying her prized doll upon her chest and letting her hands hold it. How dare he. How  _dare_  he.

_“You sealed your fate the moment you refused.” Japan shouted something to his men, only catching something about ‘oldest’ and ‘first’ before he flicked his hand down._

_A gunshot pierced the air, and his children screamed. Mexico’s head now splattered all over the side of Delaware’s head, and his children began to squirm and scream for their mother, and how Japan will pay for what he did. America watched his wife fall to the ground, her eyes dulling out to a blank, lifeless grey, a dark red infecting the tile around her._

He stood up from Hawaii’s small grave, gripping the shovel as he said goodbye to her one last time, hoping she could hear wherever she was now.

_Thirteen more gunshots followed after, then eight, thirteen, seven, seven, and two._

_Fifty one bodies now laid upon the ground, bloody, lifeless, and grey. All except one, his precious little Hawaii, who still had colored eyes and occasionally twitched._

_He had one last spark of hope._

He let the shovel fall to the ground, then grabbed his hammer and walked back inside, where he bashed open the basement wall, screaming with an unrivaled rage.

_Japan grinned at him and gave him a careless salute, gesturing his men to follow as he scrambled for Hawaii and held her close, his hand shaking as he reached for the phone to call the hospital, and hushing her when she twitched again._

_“Thank you for your time, America. I enjoyed the talk we had.”_

He threw open the gun cabinet and snatched up weaponry of all kinds, throwing on his black bullet-proof bombers jacket, sunglasses, pants, boots, and cowboy hat. He strapped guns and knives to his leather strap across his shirt, his silver eyes blazing.

_The first time America saw Hawaii wake up, he only saw a sort of faraway look in her eyes. He brushed the back of his pointer finger over her cheek, avoiding the bandages and the IV lines snaking into her tiny arms, giving her a shaky smile._

_“Hello, princess.” He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. “I’m happy to see you awake. Do you feel okay?”_

_She just stared blankly at him, bringing her hand up and rubbing her little face as she made little yelling noises. He swallowed hard and took her hands away from her face, kissing the backs of them and giving her a smile._

_“It’s okay.” He turned to the nurse, fighting to keep back a mix of panic and rage. “What’s wrong? Why doesn’t she understand?” He grabbed her shoulders, feeling his body twitch and glitch because of his skewed glasses. “Did she lose her hearing? Can she not see me? Why-”_

_“Sir, she just woke up. We need to run tests to see what is wrong, then we can-”_

_“Please, I can pay for it, just please tell me what’s wrong and-”_

_“Sir, we are working to make a diagnosis as fast as possible.” The nurse rested a hand over his heart. “I’m sorry for your loss.”_

He slammed his foot against the wall next to the cabinets, now greeted with a black with red detail Corvette Stingray parked in its set position.

_America sat across from Hawaii, pouring her her morning cereal while watching her rub her face with her doll, making whining and yelling noises. He sighed quietly to himself, rubbing his face and pinching his eyes, then poured in the milk._

_“Cereal, Hawaii.”_

_He stood up and kneeled down next to her, and he saw her looking at him, gasping and bouncing with excitement. He felt his heart flutter for the first time in months. Could… Could Hawaii actually understand what he said?_

_“... You want cereal?”_

_He saw her beautiful eyes brighten as she gasped and bounced again, making happy yelling noises and pointing with her doll._

_She knows the word cereal!_

_He couldn’t help the laugh that left him, tears of joy streaming down his face as he hugged her close, kissing the scar on her temple, murmuring ‘I love you’ over and over and over again to her._

He kicked the car into gear, screeching and driving the car up and out of its prison, then making his way through the road, picking his speed up until he reached over a hundred miles an hour. How dare he. How  _dare_  he.

_America shoved the tomahawk straight into Italy’s throat, watching the once cold green and dark red eyes fade to a dull grey as he clutched at America’s arms, then fell to the floor, his body ceasing all movements. He yanked the blade out and stood up, turning toward the man who sat tied in the corner, scars of lines surrounding his right red eye._

_He twirled his tomahawk and slammed it down against Japan’s thigh, flesh ripping and bones crushing. He heard Japan scream in agony, but he refused to back off, just as he always did._

_“I will never surrender to you,” Japan choked out, clutching at the arms of the chair with painful panting._

_“I didn’t expect you to.”_

_America lifted up his weapon and thrusted it against the side of Japan’s neck with the force of a thousand men, the sharpened blade easily slicing right through the skin, and severing the cervical vertebrae from the rest of his spine. He watched with an eerily neutral expression as Japan’s head flopped to the floor and idly rolled toward the wall to his side. He stopped it with his boot, making sure to crush it under him as he walked out of the meeting room and into the car Soviet and Britain had waiting for him._

He heard his phone begin to ring. He answered it through his Bluetooth call button, staying silent as he veered through the streets.

“Washington,” Soviet began, “I regret holding this conversation with you. I am truly sorry for the loss of your child, and I wish to offer you some sort of consolation for what my son has done to you and her. I wish to make it up to-“

He ended the call.

.

Soviet listened to the low ‘beeeeeee-’ of the phone for a bit longer than necessary. He felt an anxious swirling in his chest as he inched the phone away from his ear and rested it on the hook with a soft ‘ding.’

“Oh, Украина. What have you done.” He dragged his cigar with swimming golden eyes, blowing the frantic red smoke from his lips. “What have you done.”

“Shall I put a bounty on his head, Отец?” Kazakhstan bowed his head, golden rings shimmering as he kneeled.

“No. Not now.” He let more smoke escape from his mouth, chewing the end of his cigar in thought. “Not just yet. We don’t want him getting suspicious.” He smirked against the stick. “Go with the first plan. We can move our way up from there.” He took his cigar away from his mouth and pressed it into the ashtray, resting his hands behind his back and walking out of the room. “For now, I need to distract myself. Entertain your brothers while I am gone.”

“Of course, Отец.” Kazakhstan watched Soviet disappear down the hallway and through the door behind the bookshelf.

.

America screeched to a halt in front of the hotel and slammed the door closed behind him, throwing the keys to the man waiting for him to park it where it needed to go in the valet parking area.

“Welcome back, Mister Washington.”

America nodded in answer and pushed open the door, trying to keep his emotions under control as he walked up to the counter, where woman smiled at him.

“Hello, Mister Washington. How may I help you?”

“A room for the night.” He leaned back.

“Welcome back to Pangaea, Mister Washington.” She slid a room key to him.

He swiped the card and trudged to the elevator, rubbing his face and closing his eyes as he formulated a plan in his mind.

.

Soviet pushed open the thick metal door, listening to it creak and open up to a pitch black room on the other side, the lights behind him illuminating just a small rectangle in front of him on the floor, including a stick-like figure hanging from chains attached to the ceiling and around the bony wrists and tiny ankles. Over its tattered, poor excuses of clothing barely covering it, a clear semi-liquid mixed with a dark maroon crawled down its chest and dripped to the floor, dribbling from the mouth as its origin.

“What a shame. You dirtied my floors.”

The skeleton picked up its head, peering at him with fierce, freezing scarlet eyes scarred with the swastika. “Don’t play coy with me you corrupt bastard,” he panted.

“I see you still haven’t lost that fire.” He stepped forward and gripped the lying backstabber’s tiny little neck, squeezing to get the reaction he wanted.

Sure enough, he saw those scarlet eyes flutter and shimmer with a mix between pain, panic, and fury. “Get your hands off me you damn-”

“Damn what?” He let go of its neck and traced down the front of it, reveling in the shiver he received in reaction. “Please tell me.”

Instead of answering, the little betrayer glared. “I heard your son messed up. Getting Washington against you? How-”

The scum grunted as he threw a punch to its temple, then he gripped its jaw and snapped its head back to look at him. “Do not. Speak to me in such a tone, выродок.”

It chuckled. “Or what? You’ll kill me?”

He dug his fingernails into its cheeks. “You would just love that, wouldn’t you?” He clicked on the lamp above the both of them and turned to the fridge in the corner. He pulled it open and took out some milk and some other ingredients, then turned to the blender and blended it all together. He took off the little blended cup and turned back to the disgusting stain. “Open your mouth.”

It refused to do so. So determined to die. How pathetic.

He gripped its jaw and yanked it open against the other’s will, pouring the milkshake into his mouth, then forcing it back closed so it couldn’t spit it all up. “Swallow.”

It gave up its struggle and swallowed the liquid, still maintaining the glare.

“Good.” He took his hand away. “Now tell me, do you think you can handle sleeping on a bed without trying to escape this time?”

It scoffed and shook its head. “Wow, for a second there it almost sounded like ten years ago existed.”

He sighed and turned away. “It is nothing to do with your needs. I need a distraction.”

“So that pissing off Washington really got to you, huh?”

“You are getting on my nerves.” He reached up to the top of his trench coat and began to unbutton it. “I need to do this one last time before I seal my fate.”

.

America pulled out his phone and turned it on, staring down at the lock screen of him and Hawaii on the beach. He could make this right.

He pulled out his weapons and loaded each one, loading the pistol with the silencer first. The first phase, getting rid of the guards. Then, getting that  _son_  of Soviet’s. First, he had to get there, though. If he drove in his car, he should get there in a few minutes, but that seemed like too much of an entrance. Did he care?

Not one bit.

He pulled out a familiar map of the building, humming to himself as he mapped out his plan of attack, knowing Soviet more than likely sat in his little dungeon with his…  _toy_. His first born children probably now stopped around their favorite club further downtown, the Stan quintuplets - ever paranoid - waited for their father to get back to either call the shot to put a bounty, or already made plans to do it themselves, and the Baltic triplets no doubt slept in their beds.

He heard a click next to him. The window.

He ducked to the side just in time to hear something smack against the table. He looked up to see a knife now embedded in its surface. Someone just messed up.

He turned around to see Japan’s daughter standing there, traditional kimono upon her, and a stoic expression. “Oh, hello. Didn’t think I would find you here.”

“You killed my father.” She slid a sword out from her back and stood it upon the ground. “The Soviets have given me an opportunity to fix the problem.”

“And to think you actually had potential.” He sighed and stood up. “Did Soviet himself send you? Or his children?”

“That is none of your concern.” She pointed the tip of the sword to his throat. “For now, I have to fulfil what my father failed to do.”

In a second, he changed the roles, his arm forced against her throat, and a gun pointed to her temple. “Don’t make me do this to you, kid. I don’t want to see you throw your life away with this kind of work.”

She forced the sword into his boot, only to find it didn’t pierce the sole.

He let through a slow sigh and pinned her closer. “I told you, kid.”

She elbowed his stomach and wheeled around in his surprise, roundhousing him straight in the face and sending him stumbling to the floor. “Do not speak to me like you know me.”

She tried to stomp on his head, but he caught her boot and threw her against the wall with a sickening  _‘CRACK!!!’_ “I don’t want to hurt you, damnit! You’re leaving me no other choice here!”

She whipped up and kneed him in the jaw, the taste of blood invading his mouth. “You left  _me_  with no choice!”

She tried to punch him in the mouth, but he caught her by the wrist and snapped it. “You should have never entered this life.” He kicked her in the chest and pinned her to the ground. “You don’t deserve this.” He gripped both her injured wrists and pinned them above her head. “Any of this.”

He heard a knock against the door. “Mister Washington? There are complaints about the noise from your room.”

“Apologies. Could you get the janitor up here? I’ve got a mess to clean up.” He looked down at Japan, who stared back with defiant red and white eyes.

“Of course, Mister Washington.” Footsteps faded down the hallway on the other side of the door.

“I’m sorry, Japan.”

She spat in his face. “I will  _never_  forgive you.”

Just a few seconds later, the door opened, and Poland walked through with a silenced pistol. “Janitor.”

America held her still as Poland pressed the gun to her head and fired, her body falling limp in an instant. He stood up, watching as Poland wheeled her body away in the janitor cart with his gloves back off and rested on the handle. May whatever god she believed in be with her.

He had to act fast if he wanted to keep Soviet in the dark. Time to kick this into overtime.

He switched the safety for his silenced pistol on, then walked out the door.

.

“Oh, Germany,” Russia sang, walking his fingers up and along his shoulder.

Germany sat straight, fixing his cracked glasses and saying nothing.

“Come on, nothing?” Russia pulled the other back by his hips and rested his chin on his shoulder.

Germany still said nothing, desperately fighting back the need to pull away from the other.

“I’ll let you talk to your father and brother if you answer me.” Russia walked his fingers up his arm, then down his side. “After all, it might be the last time you see either of them.”

Germany squeezed his eyes shut and let a slow sigh escape him. Time to admit defeat. “What do you mean?”

“Well, it turns out Washington is hunting us, and…” Russia chuckled and caressed along the crest of his hip, “we’re going to see if we can sacrifice you pretty boys to satisfy him.”

Germany gulped. “Can I see them now, then, sir?”

“Of course you can. Why don’t we go right now? I have to go with my other siblings to the bar in a few minutes anyway, so think of this as a reward for good behavior.” Russia released his hand from the lower half of Germany’s body and pulled him off toward Soviet’s office, then down the hidden bookshelf hallway.

At the end, he found his brother just cleaning himself up, cuts and bruises of all kinds across his already sickly body. Germany couldn’t help but run to his brother, catching him in a hug with tears streaming down his face.

“Bonn?” East Germany turned to him, his fading black and gold eyes looking up at Germany hopefully.

Russia walked out of the way behind them and closed the bookshelf door, leaving them in dim lighting from above.

“Yes. Yes it’s me.” Germany curled around his smaller brother and held him close. “It’s okay. I’m here. I’m here.”

“Bonn,” East whimpered, collapsing into Germany’s hold like he couldn’t stand on his own. “I’m sorry. “It’s Washington, he’s-”

“I know.” Germany pressed a soft kiss to East’s forehead. “I think we might have a chance of getting out of here, just hold on, okay? We can get through this together. We can do this, I promise.” He pulled back and held East’s shoulders. “We just have to hold out a little longer.”

.

America watched Ukraine, Russia, Belarus, Georgia, Moldova, Armenia, and Azerbaijan all stumbling and laughing as they got out of the building behind them, followed by guards a few moments later. Typical. Some had drinks in hand, while others had guns, aiming around them in the dark of the night.

“That Washington’s gonna meet the barrel of my gun if he ever comes near us,” Ukraine slurred, waving around his semi-automatic Tokarev pistol as though it might act as a warning to the shadows around him.

“You fucking idiot,” Moldova giggled, punching Ukraine’s arm and practically laying against his side. “You can’t kill someone who isn’t here.”

“Besides,” Armenia gulped down more of the bottle she held, “it’s not like he even knows where we are.”

“He can’t take all of us down at once,” Azerbaijan reasoned, stumbling into Belarus, who held a gun within her hand, the only one who could actually walk in a straight line as of now.

“He took down ten men with a comb. Who fucking does that? That sounds fake.” Georgia laughed and shot his gun at the ground. “We can catch that guy in the neck with a bullet. We’re mother fuckin Soviets!”

Russia lagged behind, listening and watching his younger siblings, peering out into the darkness.

Pick them off one by one.

America pressed a button on his remote control and, as soon as the naive children clambered into the car, the tires all flattened simultaneously with a hiss none of them could hear over the blaring music. He saw them turn on the car, then try to go forward. A few moments later, the first guard got out and went to the back. Perfect.

He fired at the first guard and saw him fall to the ground like a doll let go from a child’s hand.

A few more moments, and the second guard came out. Another shot.

He crept closer to the vehicle and cocked his shotgun. He perched himself on the roof of the car, waiting for one of them to eventually fall out of the car. A few moments later, he saw one of the more liquid-brave siblings push open the car, the music from inside blasting.

“They’re takingmmmtoo fucking long.”

He grinned and kicked the sibling back inside, leaning down from the roof of the car and firing shot after shot inside. He heard screeching and scrambling from inside, as well as the sound of gurgling and choking. Aw, did he catch someone in the neck or the lung? How sad.

He swung inside and saw that, yes, he had shot four of the seven, leaving just Moldova, Russia, and Ukraine. He felt his grin widen as he knocked the pistol from Ukraine’s hand and pointed his own. “Am I interrupting?”

Ukraine scrambled out of the car and sprinted out the best he could in the direction America hoped for, followed by Moldova and Russia. Ukraine pulled out his phone, and he could hear shouts of Russian.

«Отец, это Вашингтон! Вашингтон здесь!»

America swung out of the car and grabbed his Heckler automatic pistol and cocked it. “Damn right it’s me!” He fired the pistol into Russia and Moldova on either side of Ukraine, watching their backs get mowed down by the constant barrage of bullets. He backed Ukraine into the corner of the alley and pointed the pistol at his head. “Now, I’m going to give you one chance to speak and one chance only. Where. The fuck. Is my bike?”

Ukraine didn’t answer for a few moments, to which America snapped his hand around Ukraine’s tiny little neck and squeezed, the man struggling and choking as he lifted off the ground.

“Maybe you didn’t quite hear me the first time.” America brought his face up to Ukraine’s. “Where. The  _fuck_. Is my  _bike_?”

“Отец’s garage-” Ukraine choked and clawed at America’s gloved hand, gasping for any kind of air, yet none coming to him.

“Then let me say, I hope you rot in hell.” America gave him one last grin, then shot the automatic pistol into Ukraine’s forehead, just as he had done with Hawaii. He let Ukraine’s limp body fall to the ground, then reloaded and fired another row of shots into his carcass.

Time to get his-

More blinding pain in the back of his head, then black.

.

America groaned and slowly picked up his head, the world spinning around him and making him dizzy. What…

He saw a blurry figure towering above him, the familiar tan color assaulting his eyes. “So you finally awaken.”

Soviet.

“You killed half my children. You killed half my children over a bike and a retarded little girl.” He caught the familiar, disgusting smell of cigar smoke. “What the fuck did that impact your life with? It’s just a fucking bike and a malfunctioning little brat.”

America growled, his anger bubbling over into a fury with every word Soviet spoke. “Don’t you fucking dare. Your son killed my  _last remaining family_  and for  _what_!?” America snapped his head up and forced himself as far forward as the bindings around him allowed. “Your fucking son took  _everything_ from me!”

Soviet’s hand smacked against his cheek, the burning pain amplifying his already excruciating headache. “Do  _not_ speak back to me!”

“Or what?” America looked back up at Soviet. “What will you do to me? Hm? Because I know for a  _fact_  that you don’t get your hands dirty like this. You’re just going to beat me bloody, then leave me to suffer like your fucking  _toy_  downstairs.”

America grunted as Soviet’s fist slammed against his stomach, the air escaping him in an instant and making him involuntarily choke and forget how to breathe. “You killed my children, you killed my assassin, and all for a stupid fucking girl!” Another blow to his stomach, then to his cheek. “You killed them for fucking nothing!” Blow after blow against every part of America’s body, each punch getting harder and harder until Soviet had enough. He finally turned away from America and grabbed something from the table. He turned back with a dulled NR-40, knowing the rougher edges caused more damage this way. He lifted the blade and forced it down into his leg, the searing pain ripping a groan from America’s throat as he clutched at the arms of the chair holding him down. “You’re gonna fucking pay. You’ll fucking  _pay_.” Soviet yanked out the knife, then drove it back down, pushing it further and further, then hauled it out before holding his knife straight behind him, ready to land the final blow to America’s throat. “You’ll fucking-”

_“BANG!!!”_

America picked up his head and watched as Soviet dropped the knife to the floor, stumbling back a step or two, then collapsing to the floor, a lifeless grey infecting the once fiery gold eyes. Behind him stood two frightened young adults, huddled together, circular burn scars on their lips and fingers, their black and gold eyes wide with terror as the taller one held up a smoking gun. He blinked and narrowed his eyes at the two boys, trying to think of where he had seen them before.

“... Germany? East Germany?”

Both boys nodded and scrambled to untie him, though East much more slowly, like even moving a few steps caused him great pain.

“Yes sir.”

“That’s us.”

He hesitantly stood up as the cuffs snapped off of him, pain rocketing up his leg when he tried to stand. He stumbled a step or two, then braced himself on the chair behind him with a heavy breath.

“I never thought I’d see the day.”

America turned his head over to the sound of the raspy, arrogant voice to his side. There he saw Third, a metal collar around his neck, with a chain connecting him to the bed below him. Third looked rather annoyed, his body nothing but skin and bones as he tried to push himself up off the cushions with what looked like his maximum strength.

“Annoying, really. I almost wish I’d died right on this bed.”

“Vater-”

“Shut it, Bonn.” Third pointed to the knife. “Just finish the job you couldn’t all those years ago. My son and I,” he gestured to East, “just want it all to end already. No more fun and games.”

Germany’s eyes widened. “Vater, not East, please.”

“ _Look_  at him, Bonn.” Third pointed over at East, who looked like his small body might collapse any minute, his eyes bloodshot and yellow, just like his skin, and his frame sickly thin. “He has fucking cirrhosis because the Soviets were too god damn occupied with curing Ukraine of Hepatitis, and they forgot  _him_! He’s been throwing up for days on end. He’s in pain, Bonn.” Third held out his hand to East, who took hold of it a moment later. “We just want to end it, Bonn. You can survive just fine on your own.”

Germany’s shoulders slumped. “Vater, I can’t do it-”

“Yes you can. Now, go get the arrogant bastard his precious weapons. Maybe he could teach you a few things about the real world when you leave this fucking place.”

Germany walked over to the table and grabbed the silenced pistol from the table, then handed it to America.

“Would you like to leave the room?” America rested his hand on Germany’s shoulder.

Germany looked over to Third and East, then back to America. “Yes. Please.” He ran over and squeezed East and Third close, muttering something to them before pulling away and running out of the room.

“Such a sensitive boy.” Third shook his head and gripped East’s hand as America approached. “Never meant to have this kind of life.” Third stared right above the barrel of the gun and into America’s eyes, the once frozen, dark scarlet now nothing but a dull grey-red. “I feel like you thought the same for your own, did you not?”

America gave him a short nod. “I did.”

“Well, make this right for me, will you? Fix his,” Third nodded back toward Germany, “life. As one last favor from a friend?”

“We were never friends.”

“No, I suppose not. Then, as repayment?”

“As repayment.”

Two more shots rang out, and America walked with Germany to the garage, where they took the LiveWire back to America’s home.


	16. Requests!

I TAKE NO CREDIT FOR THIS AU IDEA!!! I just added a few ideas of my own!

Italy hummed to herself as she flipped through the different photos, info paragraphs, and the occasional video on her tablet. She swiped along each one, droning through the same news over and over again. Iran and America… Greece and his terrible spending habits… Britain’s affair with USSR… France and Germany acting close again… America has monsters in his domain… Canada and Philippines probably going to war… Ire-

Wait.

Italy swiped back and intently ran her eyes over the words on the pages over and over, then scrolled down to the photos. Most looked blurry and just plain stupid, then she saw it. The video at the end confirmed it. She watched the video from start to end, then hit repeat, and did it all over again. She memorized every move, every color change, she saw on the tablet during the video, then put her tablet down. She pressed the stylus to her lips, a mischievous grin creeping slowly onto her lips.

How should she use this information? Should she use it as blackmail to keep America on his side? Or, should she tell the others and see how America reacts? How do you choose? Blackmail… reaction. Reaction… blackmail. Reaction, then blackmail… blackmail, then reaction. Both.

She snatched her phone from the table and dialed NATO, leaning back in her seat with a cheerful hum.

“Something you need, Italy?”

“Actually, darling, yes.” He swiveled around in his chair, twirling the cord of the phone between his fingers. “I have just stumbled upon something interesting.”

“Italy, please. We don’t need more trouble involving you and your gossip habits. I’m ending this-”

“I found video footage of America hiding bio-weaponry.”

NATO fell silent.

“Do I have your attention now, darling?” He crossed one leg over the other with a grin. “I’d like to get some of the other countries together to gang up on America to prove it once in for all. But, of course, I need to send out the article to the other countries. It’s… rather gory, however. I wouldn’t want to scar some of the newer members.”

He heard a sigh on the other side of the phone. “Who do you want it sent to?”

“I knew you could listen to reason!” Italy propped his boots upon his desk. “Send it to the big boys. UK, France, Germany, Canada. And if you can, get a hold of Russia, Ukraine, New Zealand, and Australia.”

“As you wish. Send me the video and I will redistribute it. I will get a hold of UN to send it to the others.”

“Thank you, darling! And be sure to tell me when it’s done! I want to catch America off guard as much as we possibly can. Oh! And make sure they all wear suits with work out clothes beneath them and something to hide their eyes!  _All_  of them.”

.

Italy ushered the others into his private jet with a grin. “Darlings, darlings, welcome. I’m sure you got the invite.”

UK adjusted his monocle, which somehow obscured his glistening red eye. “What is this about?”

“I know you saw the video, darling. Come come, let’s go pay our little friend a visit.”

“Are you sure we should be spying on America?” Canada rubbed the back of his neck. “I mean, there has to be a reason we haven’t heard about these living weapons. He would have boasted about it long ago if he wanted us to know about it. Maybe there’s a reason he won’t let us see them.”

“But aren’t you just the slightest bit curious, darling?” Italy held up his phone and played the video again for all of them to see.

Canada sighed. ”... Yes, but that doesn’t make it right. Besides, how do we know this source is credible, unlike your other sources?”

“You talk too much,” Russia muttered, crossing his arms as Ukraine gravitated toward Canada. “Why have we not taken off yet…”

“You say that like I tell you all of my information, Canada.” Italy stood to the side and welcome everyone into the jet. “Come on, darlings. We have to go now if we want to catch him by surprise.”

“Come on, brotha.” Australia clapped Canada’s shoulder. “Let’s go see what America’s been hiding.” He looked back at New Zealand and grinned at her.

She grinned back and pressed into Canada’s side. “Come on, what’s the worst that can happen? He loves his family too much.”

Canada sighed in defeat. “Fine.”

The other countries trickled in one by one and settled into their seats as Italy closed the door and reclined in his leather seat. The plane ride didn’t take as long because of the speed of the jet, and they ended up at the private runway of their shared visiting home in the mountains of Wyoming. The place his source told him the event happened in. He stepped out into the dry, empty state, his arms open wide as he sighed.

“I can smell the drama from here.”

“I don’t think that’s possible, dear.” France stepped out of the plane while finishing off the rest of her braid.

“Where are we going?” Russia shoved his hands into his pockets, a cigarette hanging from his mouth.

“I don’t really think even Italy knows,” New Zealand muttered, causing a few others to chuckle or giggle, including UK.

“Wouldn’t be the first time.” UK fixed his tie. “Doesn’t exactly know how to discern fact from fiction.”

Germany put away his mini journal and slid it into his black slacks pocket, then fixed his glasses with his gloved hand and flicked his sandy hair from his eyes. “Give Italy some credit. The video looked pretty authentic.”

“Unfortunately.” Russia flipped his phone in the air and caught it with one hand. “Checked it myself. Nothing’s manipulated, and unfortunately, the video itself doesn’t have any form of CGI or puppetry. It’s too real.”

“And this is why I brought you.” Italy grinned and clapped his hands. “Now, come on, darlings. We have to start riding before it gets too dark.” He dialed a number on his cell, and five motorcycles appeared in front of them.

“We’ll have to split up into pairs, and one of us will have to ride alone. Decide amongst yourselves.”

A whole battle over who sat with who ensued, but the ending turned up with Russia alone, Canada with Ukraine, Germany and France, Australia and New Zealand, and Italy with UK. They got onto their respective bikes, and Italy started off toward the area Italy’s source gave. They came upon a rock formation that looked like a petrified tree stump bigger than any tree known to the Earth, jutting up high into the air with no real explanation.

Devils Tower.

“I see nothing but a rock and some trees.” Russia looked over at Italy.

“Brilliant observation, Russia. I couldn’t have seen it better myself.” Germany pushed up his glasses and helped France off the bike, then kissed her hand, making her giggle and press a kiss to his cheek in turn.

“You watch your tongue, or-”

“Might I ask what you’re all doing here?”

The countries all whipped around to find a park ranger standing there with her arms crossed, glaring at them from below her hat.

“It’s June. Park rules say you can’t disturb it now.”

Italy held up his hands before any of the others could answer. “Don’t worry, ma’am. We have business to attend to here. Can’t you tell? We have federal motorcycles.” He thrusted his thumb behind him.

She glanced back behind them, staring at them a moment. “Show your badges, then.”

“Of course.” Italy pulled a second wallet out of his pocket and flipped it open. On it, he had a shimmering gold badge and two cards with his signature, one with his picture and the FBI mark on it, and the other with a long paragraph in tiny writing. “Special Agent William Fowler. We are investigating some disturbances which came from the area.”

“Oh, my mistake.” She smiled. “I didn’t know it was you I was seeing about this.”

“Yes. We would just like to scout out the area. Can you take us to the location of the disturbance?”

“Don’t you think sending FBI agents to investigate is just a bit overkill?” The ranger started taking them off into another direction anyway, the others silently following behind.

“This is federal property. A national park. If this disturbance is a national threat, we don’t want it overlooked.” Italy slid the second wallet back into his coat pocket. “Thank you for meeting us.”

“Course.” They stopped around an isolated area to the north of Devils Tower, the tall and spindly trees around them barely masking the massive rock structure in front of them. “I’ll leave you to it, then.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Italy nodded and watched as she walked away, then sighed and laughed when she stepped far enough away. “Perfect! Just as planned!”

“And you thought it was smart to not fill us in?” Australia scoffed. “Bloody hell.”

“No need to act so offended, my boy.” UK patted Australia’s shoulder. “But, he’s right. Why did you neglect to tell us what your plan was?”

“Because it makes your faces look all panicked when it looks like we’ve been caught.” Italy grinned and waved them to follow. “Come along, darlings, we only have a few hours of daylight left. We’ve got to find where this monster came from.”

“And where are we even supposed to look?” New Zealand kicked the ground.

“She’s right.” Ukraine crossed his arms and looked around. “I see nothing here that could indicate any clue as to where this monster is right now.”

“Don’t worry, I have an idea.” Italy walked toward Devils Tower, humming to himself.

“Could you maybe tell us, then?” France walked next to Germany, brushing her curly hair behind her ear.

“I guess I could,” Italy sighed out. “Well, if the monster showed up only meters from Devils Tower, then that means it has to be somewhere around, under, or in Devils Tower. If we can figure out where a possible source of hiding is, then we can find the monster.”

As they got closer to the rock formation, the height seemed to lengthen, its plateau high above the tops of the trees and covering them in shadow. Something in the air seemed to change when the group finally reached the base of the tower. Something… off. Not welcoming, but not quite threatening yet. Almost like a warning before a threat. Like they shouldn’t be here, and they should leave as soon as possible. Italy didn’t seem to notice, but Canada sure did. Whatever the feeling came from.

“I’m not so sure about this.”

Russia scoffed and pulled off his suit jacket, throwing it over his shoulder. “Ukraine, you chose a wimp for a spouse.”

“Don’t worry, my son.” France squeezed Canada’s hand. “You’ll be alright. If this monster hasn’t come out now, it may be locked up.”

“Don’t worry, brotha!” Australia clapped his shoulder and shook it. “We’ve got this. We’re close to him, so I’m sure he won’t mind.”

“And, we’re by your side.” Ukraine gave him a smile and squeezed his other hand.

“He won’t try to attack us, my boy.” UK cleaned off his monocle.

Russia and Germany just fell silent and walked after Italy, who had her hands in her pockets with a bright grin on her face. “Isn’t this exciting?” Italy looked back at Russia and Germany, her eyes glistening from behind her sunglasses. “This is going to be so much fun! Imagine what America will do when we find his little monster!”

“What are we trying to prove with this monster anyway?” Russia scrolled through his phone, his expression flickering to one of confusion for half a second before returning to his stoic expression, typing furiously on it.

“That America is making more dangerous weapons, and we can use it for blackmail! Maybe even take it for ourselves.”

Germany tried to peek at Russia’s phone, but Russia slapped him away.

A little bit later, they all stood at the base of Devils Tower, the sunset to the side making the grey surface more of a fiery orange. Italy pulled out her phone and dialed something else, then a small platform appeared in front of her. She grinned and stepped onto it, then gestured the rest to follow. They all settled onto the platform, and it flew up and placed them on top of the tower. The surface of the tower looked bathed in fire due to the setting sun, the surface almost unnaturally flat with nothing but the sparse sprinkle of a few weeds and tufts of grass. The slight breeze crawled past them, something in the air cold and alarming, the warning shifting to a threat as they walked around the top of the tower. Italy still didn’t mind, humming to herself as she swung her arms around, then pulled off her suit to reveal yoga pants, and a sports bra. Some of the others followed her lead, though Canada looked almost… sick. His face paled, his eyes swam and faded a bit, his hands looked clammy.

“You alright, my boy?” UK rested a hand on Canada’s shoulder.

“We shouldn’t be here. We can’t be here.” Canada swallowed hard and pressed into Ukraine’s side. “Something doesn’t feel right here.”

Ukraine played with his hair as Italy laughed. “Nonsense! We’ll be just fine!” She turned to Russia, whose fingers still flew across his phone screen. “Have you found anything interesting?”

Russia snapped something in his native language and continued to type. A few moments later, he spoke in English, but still didn’t look up from his phone. “I’m in.”

Italy blinked. “‘In’? What are you in?”

Russia walked over to the middle of the tower and stood in place, then placed his phone to the ground. He stood back and crossed his arms. The others watched in silence. The phone stayed in place.

“... What are you doing?” Germany looked over Russia’s shoulder to stare at his phone.

“Shut up and wait.”

They waited a few more moments, then Russia’s phone made an electronic tweeting sound, one similar to what the old iPhones made when they began charging. The others started to move forward, but Russia kept them in place.

“Not yet.  _Wait_.”

The others complied and stood in silence. The screen of Russia’s phone flicked around a few more moments, then a soft ‘ding’ sounded. Just like that, the ground slowly pulled away with a low grumbling, and a metal platform replaced it. On the platform, a gigantic eagle within a star glittered on its surface, carved in with care. Along the outer rim, letters stood engraved into the metal. “SCC EST. 1787. IN GOD WE TRUST.” The platform spanned the entirety of the surface of the tower except a small space at the back, and the surface looked corroded, stained, scratched, and charred, some parts of it even had places where the metal looked impaled.

“Now you can go.”

“I think we should all change into our moving clothes. Just in case we have to run a bit.” Italy grinned. “Right, darlings?”

“It looks promising.” Germany traced some of the claw marks, pushing up his glasses as France looked over him. “Not sure what any of this means. What is SCC?”

“Looks like we have to find out for ourselves!” Australia clapped New Zealand’s shoulders. “Let’s fuckin do this! If it’s an animal, I wanna know about it!”

New Zealand laughed and poked her brother in the stomach. “Maybe if you get off of me first.”

“Still ever adventurous,” UK muttered.

Some of the others began peeling off their suits to reveal their work out clothes, all except UK - of course - who kept his on and just took off his suit jacket, trying to defend himself by saying he could easily run in them. They all made their way onto the platform and Russia grabbed his phone. Canada looked even paler than before, struggling to stand on his own and heavily leaning against Ukraine.

“I think I should stay behind.” Canada tried to pull away, and ended up stumbling to the rock floor. Ukraine tried to keep him from falling too badly, holding him steady.

“Do you want me to take you home?” Ukraine tried his best to keep the taller upright.

“No. No, I’m fine. You go.” Canada pulled his arm off Ukraine’s shoulder. “You wanted to go, so you go. I can’t be here right now. I have to… I can’t do it.” He rubbed at his temples with slightly shaky hands, collapsed on the ground with his head hung low.

“Are you sure? I can stay with you.” Ukraine settled next to him, his arms rested around Canada’s shoulders.

“We can leave you two here, darling, it’s not that big of a deal.” Italy looked over at Russia. “Do you have the elevator working for us?”

“I do.”

“So we can go now.” Italy grinned and waved Ukraine and Canada farewell as the platform began to descend. “See you two lovebirds later!”

The group watched the now darkening sky fall further and further away from them as they sank into the earth. When they got far enough from the surface, the ground from above began to close, leaving them in complete fluorescent light, not unlike a hospital. They moved down lower and lower, going past level one, two, three… seven… twelve… sixteen… then stopped at the very bottom. They looked at the large number on the wall. Twenty.

“There’s no other way out down here.” Germany stared up high into the air, nothing but darkness above them. He then turned to Italy. “We get stuck down here, we’re done for.”

“We won’t get stuck.” Russia held up his phone. “As long as we keep this in safe hands, nothing will happen.”

“We can do this, darlings!” Italy gestured them to follow as he walked down the now illuminated hallway behind them. “I’m sure it’s safe!”

The others all looked at each other before walking after him. They all stared at the thick cement walls in silence, walking over the deep gashes claws made upon the floor, and tracing the scorch marks upon the sides of the walls. No one really knew how to react. Should they feel frightened? Fascinated?

Russia looked down at his blinking phone again and hummed as they reached a dead end to the hallway. Upon the door, written upon a banner of bright red in white lettering: “AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY. ANY AND ALL INJURIES ACQUIRED BEYOND THIS POINT, YOU AGREE TO ACCEPT FULL RESPONSIBILITY AND MAINTAIN SECRECY. ANY AND ALL VIOLATIONS OF THIS WILL BE MET WITH REPERCUSSIONS.”

“How sweet.” Italy looked over to Russia. “When will you get this door open?”

“Let me do my damn work in peace.”

Germany held France close, something which UK didn’t seem to mind as he stood next to Australia and New Zealand. Italy hummed to herself and walked around in a circle, watching Russia do his thing, before another clicking sound came from his phone. A moment later, the door began to slide open, a bright red light spinning and blaring alarms on either side. The other side of the door bathed in a pitch black except for a single strip. Upon the floor, cracked red-brown stains streaked across the visible cement floors. More claw marks and eroded cement disappeared the further into the darkness it went. No one could see the ceiling or walls in the darkness. Just lamps of bright white light, and the circles of light the lamps created upon the ground. Some of them flickered, some of them fell on the floor and created a gap between circles, the lamp violently ripped apart and sparking, causing occasional glimpses within the abyss. They proceeded to walk forward, Australia in front of New Zealand and UK as some kind of protector, with Germany and France together holding hands, and Italy casually walking with Russia. They made their way down the hallway, one by one so to stay in the realms of the light. They occasionally heard skittering against cement to the side, or the ruffling of feathers, or even a gust of air, but none of them could see a thing. The further they advanced, the more the noises grew, and when they reached the end of the light hallway, everything stopped.

Russia looked up at the door and gripped the handle, pushing it open and assaulting everyone’s eyes with more light. At the end of the room, huge glass boxes like crates lined the wall, each running further back and leading to darkness. In the middle stood a figure, stock still, exactly like a statue. That is, until they heard the figure start talking. They couldn’t exactly catch onto the words, mostly because of the distance, until they began cautiously approaching. The closer they got, the more they realized who stood in front of them.

“-nd I wanted to help you out with your skin. I know it’s sensitive this time of year, but I don’t want that blood giving you an infection like last year. So come on. Come out.”

The floor began to shake as a footstep coming from one of the many boxes in front of them echoed from within. Then another step. And another. Then, from out of the shadows, a creature with a hunched over, humanoid body with elk horns sprouting from the top of its reptile-like head. Its feet looked like that of a dinosaur, with claws that scraped the ground with each step, and razor-sharp teeth which glistened in the light, strands of saliva mixed with some red substance connecting its top teeth to the bottom, and stringing down from there. Black and brown fur coated the sickly thin body, almost like a wendigo but with fur and a reptile’s head. Its eyes of a fiery orange glistened unnaturally, and it never blinked. It stared around with four gem-like eyes, a topaz instead of a real eye, with two in front, then two right behind. It let through an unholy screech, like a high-pitched wail that split the ear drums of all who dare get too close.

“I know, Utah, I know. I know it hurts. Come here, buddy.”

The wendigo-like creature mixed with an elk and a reptile stalked forward, then settled down in front of America, who lightly ran a hand through the creature -  _Utah’s_  - fur. America took out some shampoo and squirted it into a rag, wetting it with a hose and washing the fur, causing rivers of a dark red to swirl toward the drain in the middle of the floor when he put the hose over the suds he created.

“There you go, buddy, see? Doesn’t this feel so much better?”

“Is that...?” Australia whispered, glancing back toward the others.

The others looked pale and sick. New Zealand and Italy had hands over their ears to try and cancel out the noise of the screech still ringing in their ears from a few moments ago. UK’s jaw fell to the floor. Russia actually had a look of shock and disbelief. Germany held France close to him, staring wide-eyed at the hideous creature.

When Australia turned back, he saw the creature’s head snapped straight at him, topaz eyes somehow fixating on him despite only made of rock. He gulped, a sickening feeling growing in his stomach as he stayed perfectly still, not wanting to make any more noise. It probably didn’t have a source of sight since it should have seen them when it came out of its cage, but instead either had a great sense of hearing, or smell.

“What is it, buddy? Did you smell something?”

Time slowed down for the group as America turned around, his glasses off his face to reveal milky, silvery eyes with scars all around them. The silvery eyes stared straight at them, rendering everyone silent and in shock. Wherever America touched Utah, a flash of Utah’s state flag rippled across his skin, along with the figure of a man with a trumpet to his mouth. The creature began to push itself off the ground with a low hissing sound, which crescendoed into that ear-splitting, screeching scream, its mouth wide with its blood stained teeth now all fully displayed. Australia backed away as the others began to run for their lives, screaming and running for the door when it slammed shut in front of them. They banged against the door, screeching helplessly and crying out for help. They saw the shadow appear over them in just a half a second. Only a few seconds away from death when-

The creature’s breath gusted against UK’s hair as he pinned himself to the door, staring straight into the teeth which stood almost as tall as himself. America intercepted Utah, his arms held up to stop it.

“Utah, it’s alright, buddy. It’s okay.” America rested a hand upon the creature’s nose, and it instantly calmed itself.

The group collapsed to the floor, some hyperventilating, others just staring straight with blank, terrified expressions. They all huddled close together, even the ever-cold Russia, and thanked God for staying alive. At first, they thought the horror passed...

Only, they began to hear chuckling from America, the sound like two voices at once.

The group turned to America to see him running his hand through the fur of the amalgamation of a creature, his chuckles growing louder and louder until they became the cackling of a madman. He snapped his head back to the group, his milky silver eyes piercing to the very souls of the ones before him, his skin shifting and flickering as he stepped forward.

“Oh, look at you. Look at you and your helpless demeanors.” He kneeled down in front of UK, his grin splitting his face and curling tight, almost unnatural in its shape. “You thought you could trespass and get away with it?”

“M-My boy, please-”

America’s grin dropped in an instant. His eyes lost their milkiness, and became a more brilliant silver-white. “What are you doing here? Why are you here?” He shot up straight and stared down at all of them. “Do you not realize how dangerous this is!? How did you get down here!?”

Utah began to make a low growling sound again, but America shushed it, brushing a hand along its fur. UK sighed shakily and gripped at America’s shoulders as he struggled to stand up.

“M-My boy. What have you done? What is that- that  _thing_?”

America’s eyes hardened as he looked back, and Italy tried her best to shut UK up. “This is one of my States.” He ran a hand along Utah’s side, making it utter a low, vibrating cooing sound, and his voice gained that same two-tone again. “And now, I can’t let you leave.”

“What?” came the chorus of everyone else.

America began to walk back toward the holding cells of the other forty nine states and sighed. “As much as I want to keep you all around, doing so would be too dangerous. I couldn’t have people walking around knowing we all reside within the borders.”

He rested a hand on one of the largest containers upon the wall with a hum. He knocked on it, and a heavy skittering sound came from inside. A moment later, a creature with a massively long body emerged on a thousand shrimp-like legs, its enormous neck extending high into the air, even fading a bit into the darkness when it stepped out, dwarfing the once gigantic Utah with its legs alone. Horns spiked all across its body, two especially long ones jutting out from the sides of its head. It didn’t make a sound, its glassy eyes staring straight at the group.

“Ladies and gentlemen, may I present to you Utah and Texas.” America’s eyes had that milkiness within them again as he ran his hand across the scales and through the fur, the Texas and Utah flags crawling up his arms and rippling across his skin. “They haven’t eaten in quite a long time. A whole  _year_ , in fact. And they need something to eat. And since you’re already here, well, it just takes out some of the hassle of going outside.”

“My boy, you can’t kill us.” UK stepped forward on shaking knees, his hands held out like a plea. “We’ll provide them with whatever they want, but please-”

“You read the sign on the door, didn’t you?” America’s voice began to change and shift, sounding like three voices at once rather than just one.

Alarms began to blare up above, then faceless figures came out and started backing the creatures out and into their cells again, the speaker above reverberating through the room in a calm voice “Code Blue. Code Blue. Act with caution.”

The creatures slashed and bit and screeched, swiping at the armored figures and even grabbing some. Utah managed to grip one and bite one in half, the sound of crunching bones and ripping flesh and the agonized screams cutting through the air. The people managed to get the creatures back in their places, then made their way back to America.

“Are you alright, sir?”

America shook his head slowly and looked up, his eyes returning back to that brilliant silver white. “I’m fine.”

“Do you need any assistance?” Another faceless figure handed him a tablet of some kind, which he took and typed something on it.

“No. No, just… just get them something to eat. Survive another June.”

“Yes sir. And the trespassers?”

“I’ll deal with them.”

The figures all retreated and disappeared into the walls, the mess of blood already gone.

America turned back to the group with a scowl as he walked forward, towering over the others. “Do you not realize what you could have done? Why did you come here? Why didn’t you listen to the god damn warnings!? It’s fucking  _June_! You couldn’t have come at a worse time!” He snapped his head to Italy, and his eyes narrowed. “You. Someone caught a video, didn’t they?” He looked over all of them. “And you just  _had_  to investigate. What, did you get more people involved in it too? Let me guess, Canada and Ukraine?”

The group looked off to the side and down at the floor, unsure of how to answer.

America sighed and ran a hand down his face. “Look. If it wasn’t June, I  _maybe_  would have let you see them, but these guys are  _very_  dangerous.” He looked back at the wall of boxes. “I can’t just have anyone know about them.” He walked up to the boxes and rested his hand on the invisible doors. “If you want to meet them, I can have you back in July. If you want, I can have you back July fourth, since they’re at their… friendliest around then.”

Most of them gave a freaked out ‘no,’ but some of them actually agreed. Australia, New Zealand, and even Germany worked out an arrangement, then Australia and New Zealand asked if Canada and Ukraine could join, which America agreed to. America sent them all home and came back up to the surface with them to help out Canada and fill him in on the arrangement.

When July fourth came around, the others gathered around Devils Tower with America. He stepped onto the surface, and the floor immediately began to retract to reveal the elevator surface. The others joined him and they all descended to the twentieth floor. As they walked, the place looked much lighter. The lamps all lit up from their designated places and the darkness on either side, America reassured, only meant to serve as reassurance for his States who wanted to play in the dark. They walked into the cage room, and they all stood in front of the huge wall of cages.

“Who do you want to meet first?” America turned back to the others, who looked just a  _bit_  nervous.

“Well, uh… who looks the most… ‘not-threatening’?” Canada gave a nervous smile.

America laughed and went up to the one labeled ‘IA’ and knocked on it. “Iowa, sweetie. Come here, please.”

A soft tweeting sound came from inside, then a small bird that looked like a rock with yellow and black streaks appeared in front of them, settling on America’s shoulder and nuzzling his cheek. He chuckled and nuzzled the little bird back, brushing his hand along the rock surface.

“How can that be scary? It’s so cute.” Australia got closer, and Iowa turned over to him.

Iowa’s beak split open into three parts, revealing brilliant stones of all colors lining its mouth and throat like millions of crystal-like teeth. It made some sort of threatening growl which turned into a high-pitched whistle like when running fingers over crystal glasses. Australia backed away with his hands up, and Iowa snuggled back into America when America brushed his hand down its back again.

“Sorry, Australia. Iowa is really cute, though. Aren’t you, Iowa?” He nuzzled the bird again, and it made a bright tweeting sound, soft and happy. “Do you mind if I let these guys tour your room, hm?” He held out his hand and Iowa hopped onto it. He took off his glasses and looked at Iowa, his eyes turning milky again as Iowa tweeted at him, its wings fluttering a bit. Iowa’s flag swirled on his hand for a bit before he put his sunglasses back on and turned back to the group. “Follow us. I want to show you Iowa’s room.”

He stood up and walked down into the cage, retreating into the darkness. The others all looked at each other with a few confused looks before walking after him, Canada and Ukraine walking together while Australia, Germany, and New Zealand walked further in. The space around them grew darker until it became a pitch black.

“Are you sure this is safe?” Germany muttered over to Canada.

“I don’t really know.” Canada walked closer to Ukraine.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine.” Australia clapped Germany’s shoulder, causing him to jump. “We have America if anything bad happens.”

A few more seconds of walking in complete darkness, then they walked out into a field of grass and weeds made of glistening crystal with a slight cool breeze in the air, the sky above them a bright blue with a few tufts of clouds. Out into the distance, and all around them like they stood in the middle of a crater, stone walls rose high into the air with trees and beamed down on the crystals, causing glistening rainbows to decorate the air and the ground.

“It’s beautiful,” Canada whispered, lacing his fingers with Ukraine’s as Germany fixed his glasses.

Australia and New Zealand began touring the enclosure, watching all kinds of small creatures made of rock and feathers fly, crawl, and bounce around. Australia looked like he couldn’t get enough, carefully handling all kinds of animals and letting them crawl all over him, taking out a small book and writing logs about the different animals, then handing it to New Zealand so she could draw them for him.

“This is bloody fuckin wonderful! Look at these buggers!” Australia picked up a little spider and watched it dance along his hand, its back glittering like the crystals all around it. “Where did you find this place?”

“I found it in a hidden area of Iowa’s home.” America held Iowa within his hands, petting each feather as Iowa began to fall asleep in his hand. “Everyone else who entered were said to have their throats pecked into and drained of their blood. But I had the fortune to get attached to this sweetheart. Just like all the rest of them.” America held the little Iowa close to his chest as a short hug, then went back to petting. “No one can really get close to them, though. Not without becoming violent like you saw a month ago.” He held up the small Iowa and muttered something to it, pulling off his glasses and his eyes turning milky again.

America looked up, but instead of his normal voice, a new voice came from him, as well as his own as a second tone underneath. “Hello, America’s friends. What is the reason you have come for?” The little Iowa turned to the others, tilting its head and America somehow doing the same at the exact same time.

Australia gasped and sprinted forward, sitting in front of Iowa. “You speak through America? That’s bloody genius!”

“Do not come too close, America friend.” America pulled Iowa back a bit as Iowa jumped back in his hand. “I do not enjoy the intrusion.”

“Sorry sorry. My mistake.” Australia laughed. “Mate, can all the others speak through America as well?”

“My brothers and sisters all speak with America, yes. Why have you come here?”

“To see you,” Germany offered as an answer, lightly pushing Australia back a bit to speak with Iowa face to face. “We wanted to meet some of you.”

“You home is beautiful,” Canada interjected.

America chuckled as Iowa’s wings ruffled. “My home is wonderful.”

“Do you mind if we take pictures?” Ukraine asked, kneeling down in front of Iowa.

“Not at all, America friend. Do you plan to meet some of my other brothers and sisters as well?” Iowa’s head tilted again, as did America’s.

Australia and New Zealand both shouted out an enthusiastic ‘yes!’ while Germany and Canada nodded, Ukraine too busy taking pictures to hear the question.

America stayed silent a moment as Iowa turned back to America for a few moments, then America looked back up with his silvery white eyes again. “Would you like to come to Common with me?”

“What’s Common?” Ukraine put down his phone and looked back at America.

“A place where any of the States can be at any time they want.” America stood up and placed Iowa on his shoulder, and walked toward an archway with glittering, cyan-white trees on either side. “This way.”

The group followed after and into the archway fitted within the crater wall, and they stopped at the edge of a bright land which expanded far into the distance, rivers and lakes and mountains all across the landscape far into the distance. Creatures flew through the sky - one looked like a horseshoe crab crawling through the air - and across the land. Into the distance a bit, along the coastline, a long neck stood out from the water, two enormous horns on either sides of its head. As they walked through the land, within the trees, a plant seemed to follow them, turning toward them and snaking through the grass. When America turned to face the plant, it had its petals pulled back with extremely long stamen reaching out like snake heads to consume them, only to stop when America crossed his arms.

“North Carolina, I am very disappointed in you. These are guests. You had your meal already.”

North Carolina split open even further - like a venus flytrap within a flower - to reveal what looked like shark teeth lining the inside of its… throat, each like megalodon teeth, and getting more and more sparse as it went down. America held up his hand.

“What did I just say, North Carolina?”

North Carolina closed its mouth, but kept open the petals.

“There. That’s better.” America uncrossed his arms and ran his hand along one of the petals, his eyes flashing with that milky look again before turning around with the same silver-white eyes. “Let’s keep going, shall we?”

Germany jolted when his phone went off. “Actually, I think we might have to go.” Germany held up the phone and put it on speaker.

UN’s voice came in from the other side. “Where have all of you been? You’ve been missing for hours! I haven’t been able to call any of you!”

Looks like the party’s over.

_I'm honestly so fascinated with this AU. I'm in love with it. I want to read and write more stuff about it. Maybe stuff like how America first contacted the States, or how other countries react, or what would happen if someone just so happened to idk kidnap America, or one of the monsters is kidnapped and experimented on or something, or-_

_I'll just stop talking now._

...

Ireland sighed as he watched the rain rap against his window for the first time in about two seconds. He rested his chin on his jaw with a bored look on his face, picking up his Guinness and swirling it within his hand. He needed to get away from the constant raining and the clouds. Not to say he hated the clouds and the rain. He loved the rain. Sometimes, he just needed a break. He hummed to himself and looked over to his phone. Maybe he can arrange a spontaneous vacation for himself. Go to the beach, lay in the sun,  _see_  the sun...

He grabbed his phone and logged in. He scrolled through his contacts before tapping one of the many names. He put the phone to his ear and listened to it ring. A few moments later, he heard that smooth southern accent.

"Hey there, Ireland. Something on y'all's mind?"

"Actually, yes, Texas. Do y' mind if I come to visit? I need a break from the rain up here." Ireland leaned back and closed his eyes, massaging his temple. "My skin is getting so transparent, I look like a flashlight and glow in the dark."

Texas laughed. "Come on over. Y'all want me to get you a hotel? A condo on the shore? A jet, or a boat, or-"

"No. No, there's no need. I can get everything I need myself. Thank you for offering. I think I might just go to the beach or something." Ireland walked back to his room, and began packing. "Do you mind getting Franklin Barbecue for us? I love that place."

"Sure. I'll wait in line for you."

Ireland sighed. "Thank you so much. I'll make it up to you, I promise. Would you like a beer or two? Some whiskey?"

"Oh, either is great. I'm getting you a house to stay in by the water, that alright?"

"No, that's too much trouble. I don't-"

"Done. Booked you for three days."

Ireland sighed. "Texas."

"What? I'm just helping a friend out."

"Yeah yeah. I'll be over in a few hours since the rain is bad. That good with you?"

"Sure thing. I have to get in line tonight so I won't be able to see you anyway. Then, when you get here, I can show you to your condo, and you can have a break in the sun. How's that sound?"

"Thank you, Texas. I owe you one."

"No you don't. I still owed you from back in the thirties. Call this getting even."

"Sure thing, Texas. See you in a few hours."

"See y'all later."

Ireland ended the phone call and started making his way out the door with his newly packed suitcase, humming to himself while he got in his car and drove to the runway. He pushed closed the car door and tossed the keys to the chauffeur, then made his way into the jet, all while getting pelted with rain.

"Where are you going, sir?" the pilot called from the cockpit.

"Take me to Austin-Bergstrom International Airport." Ireland shoved his suitcase into the overhead compartment.

"Any stops along the way?" the pilot asked from the intercom.

"No." Ireland buckled himself in and leaned back into his seat, closing his eyes. "Take me as soon as you can."

"Yes sir." The intercom cut off, and the cockpit door closed in front of him.

He stared out the window as he put on some noise cancelling headphones, watching the rain splash against it. He watched it for hours, until he saw it stop, and the plane began to move, zooming off the runway and taking off into the air. He watched as the ground shrank more and more while the jet took off into space, cruising through the air for just a few minutes, before touching down in Austin, Texas. Ireland stepped out into the morning sun, welcoming the warmth with open arms. The air smelled of freshly cut grass as he walked out into the runway, and Texas met him there, a steaming bag full of Texas' famous barbecue in his hand as he opened up the door to his black Texas Edition F-150. Ireland heaved a sigh and grabbed the meat from Texas, setting it in his lap.

"Thank you so much, Texas."

"No problem, Ireland. Y'all look like you need a break." He started driving out of the airport.

"So, where is this condo anyway?" Ireland looked over at Texas, trying his best not to rip open the bag in his hands and consume everything in it.

"It's near a little place called Salt Lake. It's to the northwest of Rockport, one of my best beaches." Once they exited, Texas hit a button on his truck. The truck made a sound like shifting metal, then the two took off into the sky. Texas put his truck in cruise control as they reached a much higher speed, then turned back over to Ireland.

"Oh really?" Ireland set the bag back down on the middle console and opened it, the smell hitting him like a semi as he gripped a fork.

"Really." Texas split the barbecue in half, setting Ireland's half on a plate with a half a loaf of Texas Toast while he took the other half. "I think you'll like it. It's a nice little thing with two bedrooms and a two level deck right in front of a fishing canal." Texas threw some of the cut meat onto a piece of Texas Toast and stuffed it into his mouth, groaning at the taste.

Ireland copied Texas' movements and the flavors all burst against his tongue, the meat practically melting in his mouth. Texas barbecue. Oh, how he missed it. "Are you staying with me, then?" he managed to ask after he finished his first bite.

"Nah, I have to work. You'll have the pretty little house all to yourself. You'll have everything you need for a trip, though. Fishing poles, jet skis, canoes, you name it. Rented it all for you already." Texas looked out the window and took another bite, practically inhaling the food he held in his hands. "And no, you don't owe me one." Texas leaned back against his seat with his arms propped up on the door console with the window and lock buttons, and the middle console. "This is just us getting even."

Ireland smiled and threw more of the barbecue into his mouth, every mouthful somehow better than the last. "Well, thank you anyway."

"You're welcome."

About two hours into the drive, they landed on a road with houses bordering a salt river of sorts. The house they stopped in front of a little house with light blue paint and a white garage, the wood of the double deck visible from behind it. Texas helped him out of the truck and into the little house. As he said, it didn't feel too big, but not too small either. It had a nice open-concept layout with some bedrooms on either side of the hallway, then a kitchen, living room, and dining room at the back of the house to give a better view of the deck and the canal. Texas set his bags down in the bigger of the two rooms, then came back and bid Ireland farewell.

"Your truck is outside, the fishing poles and canoe are in the garage, the jet ski is tied to the dock, and the WiFi is already hooked up to your phone and laptop. And remember, if your skin starts to feel like it's burning, get in the water, reapply the sunscreen, then go back to tanning. Works like a charm." Texas tipped his hat to Ireland, then made his way to the door. "I'll see you in three days to pick you up, yeah?"

"See you then, Texas. And thank you!"

Texas shut the door behind him, and Ireland stood in the kitchen, unsure of what to do. He looked down at his skin, and decided in an instant. He went back to his room and grabbed his sunscreen, changing into some swim trunks before slathering on copious amounts of the white lotion. He grabbed his laptop and walked out onto the second level of the deck where he settled into a chair and rested his laptop on the little table. He listened to some movies as he closed his eyes and zoned out, hoping his skin decided to get darker instead of burning. He followed Texas' advice, going down every so often to get into the water and cool his skin off, reapply his sunscreen, and go back to listening to his laptop while tanning. The sun felt amazing after so long without it.

Eventually, he had to get out of his time in the sun and go get some food for himself. He drove down a bit and found a place called Hoot's Country Kitchen. He decided to go inside, the smell of more barbecue, burgers, and bacon pulling him further in. He settled into the seats and someone immediately came over to greet him. He gave a bright smile and handed him a menu while greeting him.

"What can I getch'y'all to drink?"

Ireland stuttered and looked down at his menu. "Uh... sweet tea?"

"Sure. I'll get that out for you." He smiled, then walked away to tend to someone else.

Ireland looked down at his menu. Should he get more barbecue? Of course, it won't be as good as Franklin, nothing would. Might as well go for something else. He snorted. Go for a spud? Maybe. A hot dog? Hell no. Burger? Nah. Brisket sandwich? Now that sounds good. He ordered the sandwich when the man came back, then leaned back with his sweet tea and began to sip on it. Everything went on without a hitch, and he decided to treat himself. He went to go have a massage because dammit, he hasn't had one in a while, and they're the best fucking thing in the god damn world. So, he got into his car and drove to the southeast for a few miles and found himself at the place of the masseuse. He walked in, paid for an hour, and let her do all the work. She had a few Essential Oils with her and used those as well. Nice smells, he enjoyed them.

He then retreated to his condo, got ready for bed, and slept. When he woke up, he did it all over again, though with some minor changes. He stayed back at the condo and sipped on his Guinness, listening to the quiet sounds of the evening as he watched the sunset. On the end of the third day, Texas greeted him.

"So! How did y'all enjoy your stay?"

"Oh, it was amazing. It felt amazing to be in the sun, and have nothing to worry about, and eat more of that amazing fucking food." Ireland sighed and rested his head back, closing his eyes. "Swear, you and your god damn food always get the better of me."

"Good thing I brought some Round Rock Donuts."

Ireland opened his eyes again. "You're  _kidding_."

Texas held up the box with a grin.

"God, you're gonna make me fat with all your delicious fucking food." He plucked the donuts from the box and shoved them into his mouth, practically melting at the taste. "God damn."

Texas laughed. "All in a day's work." He opened the door for Ireland and gestured for him to climb out, which he did. "I hope you come visit again."

"You?" Ireland scoffed and playfully shoved Texas' shoulder. "Not a chance."

They both laughed and walked toward Ireland's jet. As Ireland walked up the steps, he waved to Texas.

"I'll see you again, my friend."

"You better. Can't wait to make you fat."

"And make  _you_  drunk. Speaking of which." Ireland whipped out a bottle of Guinness, then Dead Rabbit, and tossed them both to Texas, who caught them easily. "Here's your repayment."

"You just made me owe you again!"

"I know!" Ireland laughed and walked into the jet, and it shut the door as Texas laughed from outside.

Vacation well deserved.

...

_Iran stared down at the map, tapping her finger against the surface with a low growl as she tried to figure out some sort of counter to Iraq trying to fall to Communism. She didn't notice when someone knocked on the door, and when footsteps came into the room. She only noticed the arms that wrapped around her waist. Two small, soft arms, and someone nuzzling into her back._

_"Hello, Iran," came America's sweet, soft voice._

_Iran smiled and turned around to see America standing in front of her in her dress, her sunglasses off and giving her a smile of her own. "Hello, lovely." Iran nuzzled America's neck, causing her to sigh._

_"I missed you." America pressed closer to Iran and nuzzled into her neck. "Are you okay? Has Soviet tried anything?"_

_"No, Soviet hasn't tried anything, don't worry." Iran ran her hand down America's back, smiling at her sigh of relief._

_"I was a bit worried. Sorry."_

_"I know you were." She pulled America into the middle of the room, and the two began to sway to some invisible song, holding one another close._

_"This is nice," America muttered, her hair falling over her face and making her look more shy._

_"It is," Iran murmured, kissing along America's jaw with a smile. "I wish it wouldn't end."_

_"Me neither."_

But, all of those words never meant anything, did they?

Iran stood in front of America, his face hardened into a scowl at the one he used to love not too long ago.

"Iran, I want to make you a deal. I will give you weapons to fight Iraq for a price. Any weapons you want."

Iran ran a hand down his face. "What for?"

"Helping out some people down in Nicaragua," he answered simply, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

Iran stared at him another moment more, then scoffed. "Fine. What weapons do you have?"

"Spare parts for your current planes. I know your planes are just falling apart after quite a few years of use, and I thought maybe you could use the boost, and I could use the money."

"Don't you have enough money already?"

"Don't have the funding for this. Now, are you in or not?"

Iran sighed and tapped against her arm. "Fine." She looked up at America, who had that same shy smile she couldn't help but fall for.

The room fell into a tense silence, then America cleared her throat. "I should be... going. Thank you for your time."

And with that, America left.

Did Iran miss America? There wasn't really any way to know for sure. Maybe she did, because she accepted America's arms deal offer. Or maybe, she just did it for her people. She just didn't know her motivations anymore.

She looked over at the ripped photo in the corner of her desk and picked it up. It showed her and America together for the first time after World War Two, both of them grinning like idiots and hugging. She felt a small smile tug at the corners of her lips, which dropped a few moments later.

It's gone. All of it is in the past now. There's no use looking back in time.

\---

UK arched a brow at France as he stomped toward him, not even walking on the sidewalk as UK stood there with his hands rested upon his cane.

“You continue to treat me as though I’m a degenerate  _disgrace_.”

UK sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Must we speak of this while-“

“You took our money and spent it on, what, some little islands off the coast of my borders?” France gripped his bow tie and yanked him down, his white eyes ablaze. “Do you have  _any_  idea how this makes us look? We’re supposed to look  _friendly_ , didn’t you get the  _memo_?”

He straightened, grabbing his wrist and pulling it away. “Darling-“

“Don’t you ‘ _Darling_ ’ me,” he growled. “I have done nothing but support this…  _marriage_ , and you have decided to hoard lands next to mine! You have done nothing for me,  _nor_ my people!”

“France, Darling, I believe you are misunder-“

“I am not going to have a courting with you if it means you take advantage of me and my lands! I am not going to have you taking everything just so  _you_  can take it for yourself!" She thrusted her finger against UK's chest with a snarl.

"So, what, I can't get you a present for our anniversary without you thinking I did it for myself? Is that it?" UK stared directly at France. "I can't do anything without you being suspicious,  _can I_?"

"No, you damn well can't, because you have done me wrong  _countless_ times. I wouldn't be surprised if you're cheating me because of how often you're gone!" France gripped UK's tie and yanked him down, her bright white eyes blazing into red and blue.

"Maybe if I was, it might have been to get away from your constant screaming and suspicion." He pushed her away, walking back into the house with France right on his heels.

"Because you're so untrustworthy! Look at you, you've constantly given empty promises! You promised America to his land all those years ago, you promised to allow most of your other colonies they could rule themselves, but you got too greedy to let them do that, and you refuse to-"

"Can you never just let me live my life in  _peace_?" UK turned back to her with a growing feeling of dread and rage mixing dangerously together. "I've tried to make up for what I did."

"You only  _ignore_ what you did. You call what you did a  _good thing_!" France shoved him against the wall. "You make everything seem like everyone else's fault!"

UK growled and grabbed France's wrists before she could push him again. Her face contorted into an ugly snarl, her accent heavy, and her nails sinking into the skin of UK's arm. They stood at a stalemate for a minute too long before UK pushed back and made his way for the front door.

"I'm going out for a drink. Don't bother following me,  _Darling_." He kicked open the door and stomped down the driveway, unlocking the car and speeding down the road.

He gripped at the wheel until his knuckles turned white, not even noticing how he sped up uncontrollably, and floored it even still. He needed to get the fuck away. He needed a break. He needed out. He never thought France would turn out to be this manipulative little twat, fucking hell.

He drifted around a corner with a screech of his tires, the smell of burning rubber assaulting his nose before he forced his car to speed up even faster. He screamed at his windshield, his face reddening and his movements more sharp and jerky. He screamed with frustration and threw his car into park in front of the mansion he wanted. He kicked open his door and slammed it closed, then stomped up to the door and banged against the surface. He felt like screaming some more, ripping apart someone's throat, but all of it died away when he saw the door open.

High above him, the tan trench coat looked messily buttoned on, the black hair hastily combed back, and the soft golden eyes heavy with exhaustion. He felt the rage fizzle out to shame. He wrapped his arms around the other's middle and shoved his face into his lower chest. He bunched up the fabric of the trench coat and held back frustrated sobs as he felt the other wrap his arms around him.

"Has something happened? It's the middle of the night." Soviet held UK closer and picked him up, shutting the door and walking further into the house.

UK wrapped his legs around Soviet's waist and encircled Soviet's neck with his arms to help Soviet carry him. "It's France again. She keeps tearing me down no matter how many times I try to make it better." He shoved his face into Soviet's shoulder. "... She shoved me into a wall again. I don't want to wait around for her to try something worse. She keeps saying everything is my fault, and I..." he pressed his face further into the cloth, breathing in the comforting smell to calm his nerves, "I'm starting to believe her. And I love her, I do, but she's making it seem like everything that goes wrong is my fault. But then she apologizes and..." he pinned himself to Soviet's chest, "I can't help but forgive her. I don't know what to do anymore."

Soviet settled onto the bed and held UK close, playing with his hair and rub his back to comfort the other. "You have to get out." He hugged UK tighter. "It doesn't matter if you love her. You're in a bad situation." He tilted UK's head up and gave him a soft smile. "You can stay with me." He traced a hand through UK's hair and kissed his forehead.

UK looked down at Soviet's chest and laced his fingers through Soviet's coat. "I want to. You know I do. But, she'll just use it against me and tear us down. All of them would."

"I know, Голубка." Soviet rested UK's hat and monocle on the night stand, then coaxed off his suit jacket, which now had a few tiny holes in them around UK's shoulders. He could sew those closed later. "For now, just rest. We can discuss it in the morning."

UK nodded into his neck and took off his shirt and trousers, curling into Soviet's hold as he did the same. Soviet curled around him as they both laid on the bed. UK closed his eyes and tried to focus on Soviet's smell and the movement of his hand. He also felt Soviet kiss his forehead and face, which somehow seeped all the tension he still had away. He looked up at Soviet and gave the shiest little smile.

"Thank you so much, my love." UK pecked Soviet's lips and nuzzled his cheek. "It really means a lot to me."

Soviet held him close. "You're welcome, Голубка."

UK cuddled close to Soviet, enjoying the inviting warmth and falling asleep more easily than any time in the past month.

-

France crossed her arms and stared at the fireplace, trying to calm her inner turmoil when she heard a confident knock against the door. She got up and opened the door, smiling when she saw who stood on the other side.

"Germany, it's so good to see you." France glomped the other and they fell to the floor, laughing and kissing.

"You too, France." Germany traced along her jaw. "Did you tell him?"

France's smile dropped. "I... I didn't get to. He started screaming at me before I could say anything."

Germany sighed and pressed his forehead to hers. "I'm sorry. Do you want me to come with you to tell him?"

"N-No, I don't want you to get hurt." She gripped at Germany's shirt. "Please. I don't want you getting hurt because you tried to help me get away."

"Please. You're in a dangerous situation. You're unhappy. Please, just let me help you."

"You help me by staying with me." She kissed along Germany's neck, making him shiver. "You just staying with me like this helps me more than you know."

Germany held her close, swallowing hard. "You're welcome." He tilted her head up. "Do you want us to continue in the bedroom? Or on the couch?"

She grinned and pulled Germany back toward the bathroom. "I want to try something different this time. I'm sure you don't mind."

Germany shook his head, a grin now matching France's. "Not at all."

\---

“I don’t want to hurt you, Denmark.” Third brushed his fingers up her back as she laid upon the bed, her hair pooling on either side of her head. “You know I don’t.” He pressed light kisses along her spine, a quiet hum drifting from her throat in agreement.

He moved his hands to her shoulders and pressed into them, causing a sigh to escape her. He pushed out and along her arms before gliding his fingers back and starting the process all over again. He skimmed his lips against the back of her neck and the top of her spine as he traveled his hands downward, working out any sort of tenseness he found as though he possessed magic. She fully relaxed into the bed below her with a soft sigh, a light smile dancing across her lips.

"... But you know there are some things I just can't stop myself from."

Third dragged his nails down her back, causing her to shiver.

"And right now, I can't stop myself."

Third slid out a knife and grazed the tip along her spine, not deep enough to bleed, but enough to cause the first layer of skin to separate and turn a light red color. He felt her shiver, and heard her groan, and he couldn't stop himself. He drew patterns upon her back with the knife, making sure her back decorated with swastikas upon her shoulder blades, and one on each of her ribs. He pulled her up to a sitting position by her throat, though didn't choke her just yet, and ran the blade down the center of her chest, along her sternum, and through the middle of her umbilicus. She let through a soft, wanton sound, gripping and squirming under him. He became more adventurous, pressing the blade in just a bit deeper into her softer, more sensitive skin so it grew redder, but didn't bleed at all. He held onto her neck with one hand, occasionally clenching his hand just a bit to cause her to gasp and squirm more, then relaxing it back to just holding it. He slid his thigh between her legs so she straddled it and pressed her back to his chest, feeling her body melt into him and submit to him. He couldn't get enough. He had to do more. He tightened his hand around her neck and pressed the blade in deeper along her inner thigh, a few small droplets of that delightful red dotting the skin behind the knife like a trail. He lifted up the knife as he felt her struggle to let out some more delighted sounds, letting his tongue glide across the surface and catch the hint of iron upon it. It tasted better every time.

He felt something wet against his thigh.

He chuckled and nibbled on her shoulder and relaxed his hand. "Are you enjoying this, hm? Such a scandalous little thing you are."

She gulped and nodded, causing him to grin against her skin.

\---

Alaska hummed along to the soft piano music in the background as he moved his fingers against the WASD keys on his keyboard, flicking his mouse around to walk through the blocky world upon his computer screen. He made his way to one of the structures in the taiga biome, a fishing house along the side of a lake bordering a naturally generated village he renovated. That's when he saw something yellow appear in the bottom left corner of his screen.

_Honolulu has joined the game._

Alaska smiled at the name and took out some spruce wood and spruce planks from his inventory so he could start building the fishing dock off of the land in front of his house. He glanced over at the corner again when white lettering appeared.

_Aloha, Alaska. Fish home?_

Alaska started typing.

_yeah its good to see you again hawaii long time no see_

_How long has it been since we last logged in? Years?_

He saw a figure appear in his vision on screen.

_Honolulu has teleported to your coordinates_

Alaska pressed the spacebar and walked around, which Hawaii did the same.  _2 long_

_I agree. I wish I could come visit you in real life. I kind of... missed talking to you._

Alaska's heart skipped a beat. This was his chance. He could do this.  _i have enough saved i could fly wherever i want rn just tell me where u and i can make it 2 u_

A hesitation came from the other side.  _You really mean that?_

_i do i wanna meet my mc gf <3_

_Lol okay. When do you want to come?_

_ne time u want bb_

He received an address from her, and he booked a flight for two days later, which Hawaii agreed to. He would finally see her face to face instead of through a screen on a skype call, or through discord. Finally, he could see her in real life.

...

(Sorry, this one is a bit sloppy)

Ukraine rolled onto his side and groaned at the bright sun beaming into the room, curling into the pillow to shield his eyes. He patted the spot next to him and grumbled when he didn't feel anyone next to him. Canada must have left earlier that day while he slept. So, he shoved his head into the pillow and made another low sound.

That's when he heard a small sound next to him, like a soft grunting. He rubbed his eye and looked off into the direction of the sound, and found a small mass under the covers. A pillow?

"What...?"

He pulled back the blanket and yelped at the sight, springing to his feet and pointing down.

"What the hell!? How in- What-"

There in the covers, a tiny sleeping baby curled into Canada's clothes, gripping at the fabric and occasionally kicking its leg. He must have jostled it too much when he stood up, however, because the baby's eyes opened, and in them he saw a soft creme and light, pale pink-orange. He kneeled down to the baby and shakily reached out his hands.

"Canada? I-Is that you?"

The baby smiled at him and grabbed his finger, gasping and moving his hand up and down.

It's Canada. Oh no.

He can't take care of a baby! He doesn't have the skillset! He-

He heard Canada coo and started nibbling on the tip of Ukraine's finger with happy, innocent eyes. His heart melted at the sight, and he pulled Canada closer, tapping Canada's tiny little nose with his other finger.

"Even when you're tiny, you're irresistibly cute." He kissed Canada's cheek, and Canada made a little babbling sound and patted his cheek.

How does he make Canada come back, though?

He phoned Russia and he just said 'it will wear off on its own.' Wow, so helpful.

He helped Canada when he got hungry, helped him take a bath in the sink - after he cleaned it of course, he wasn't going to make Canada more dirty - after he made a mess, and helped him take naps. He felt completely clueless when Canada began to cry, so he just put his finger in Canada's mouth, and he felt Canada start nibbling on it, using it as some sort of pacifier as he tried to find out the source of Canada's crying. He frantically looked around for something to distract Canada, then his eyes landed on the TV. Maybe they could watch some TV to help them sleep.

He turned on the TV and Canada watched the flashing colors as he nibbled on Ukraine's finger, occasionally chewing on it before stopping and just letting it rest in his mouth. Ukraine didn't seem to mind, just watching the TV to try and get a break. He loved having Canada this small, don't get him wrong. He just felt a bit... overwhelmed. He felt Canada's breathing even out as Ukraine laid back against the back of the couch.

"What kind of day did I walk into?" He looked over at the clock and saw the numbers 21:12. How nice. And here he thought he could just have a chill day with Canada. Well, he did, but... never mind.

He closed his eyes and let the exhaustion hit him and knock him out cold.

He woke up the next morning to Canada sitting in his lap - at his full size - with Ukraine's finger still in his mouth, dark circles under his eyes and curled tightly into Ukraine's chest.

"Thank God that's over," Ukraine muttered.

 


	17. German Boi and Poland Boi

Germany walked down the sidewalk in the park with Poland at his side, the two of them bundled up in jackets and scarves to try and protect themselves from the cooling autumn air. Poland became very close with Germany, smiling and laughing with him, with the cutest little smile Germany had ever seen. They grew very close since the fiftieth NATO meeting all those years ago, and he appreciated it. He never had someone who understood him so much. Someone who could relate to what he went through back in Berlin. Poland had told him what he went through back during his split in exchange for what happened to him during Berlin. It felt... nice. To have someone understand and not become overly protective of him. A mutual understanding.

Germany looked over at Poland, his chest fluttering at the sight of the smaller. He felt his lips tilt into a shy little smile. He suddenly got an idea. What better way to push out of his comfort zone like Canada suggested than to try and hold hands with the one he adored? He hesitated a moment before resting his hand on Poland's shoulder. Poland jolted out of whatever he ranted on about, and looked back up at him.

"Y-Yes, Germany?" His cheeks started to dust a soft pink. "Do you uh... need something? Sorry, I was probably talking too much. I'll-"

"No no, that's not it." Germany gave his shoulder a light squeeze. "I just wanted to ask you a question once you were done with your story."

"No, it's okay, you can tell me." Poland smiled back, rubbing his hands together as a nervous tic.

"Are you sure? I don't want to interrupt you." Germany patted his shoulder. "It's alright, finish your story."

"N-No, I want to hear what you have to say." He let through a nervous chuckle, his cheeks fading into a soft red. "It's okay, I was almost done anyway."

"If you say so." Germany took his hand away and let his gloved hands rest back in his pockets. "I was just going to ask how you manage to act so cute."

Poland stuttered and looked down at the floor, his face consumed with a bright red and unsure how to answer. Germany just laughed and took hold of his hand, steering him off toward another side of the park.

"Come on, let's go get some coffee, hm?"

Poland's face somehow got even brighter. "O-Okay, I- u-uh... okay."

Germany chuckled and stopped in front of the door of the coffee shop. "There's no need to be so nervous."

"N- uh, sorry." Poland looked down at the floor and rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand.

"There's no need to be sorry." Germany pushed open the door and settled them both into a small booth by the window. "Just relax, we're just getting some coffee."

"I-I'm not nervous, I just- I u-uh... Y-You're holding my hand," Poland muttered, his voice growing quieter and quieter until it became only a whisper.

"Hm? Oh." Germany lifted his hand off of Poland's. "I apologize. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. I just wanted to push out of my comfort zone a little bit." His sudden confidence died out in that moment as he rested his gloved hands in his lap.

"N-No wait, it's okay, I want to keep doing it." Poland looked back up at Germany, the skin all the way down to his neck nothing but a deep red. "I'm sorry, I-"

"Are you sure? You don't seem very comfortable with it." Germany laced his gloved hands together in his lap. "It's alright if you aren't, I understand."

"No, it's okay. I'm sorry." Poland pressed the back of his hand to his cheek, probably to cool them down. "I just wasn't expecting it, but I'm not opposed to it. I'm sorry if it came off that way."

Germany suppressed a shy smile, a bit of the hope fading back. "It's really fine if you don't feel okay with it."

"I'm okay with it, really." Poland rested his hands on the table in front of Germany. "I didn't ever think you would trust me that much."

"Of course I trust you, you dork." Germany giggled and patted Poland's hand, making Poland's face - which started calming down from the bright red color - turn back to a deep red.

Germany smiled as he pushed a button to order some coffee for himself, then for Poland. He honestly loved how flustered Poland got when he called him cute, or touched him by surprise. He also often found himself thinking about the slightly smaller sweetheart, usually when he had to focus on working and paperwork. He held out his hand to his side, and a cup dropped into it as he drifted off, occasionally sipping on his coffee. Maybe he should finally just ask Poland out. Put them both out of their miseries.

"Germany!"

Germany jolted out of his thoughts and looked over at Poland. "Yes?"

Poland suddenly looked like he regretted saying anything in the first place. "I... I uh... I was going to ask if you would- that is, if you want to, if you would like to maybe, I mean possibly sort of... go out with me?"

Germany blinked in surprise. Well, crisis averted. Poland just did it for him. He set his coffee cup down onto the little saucer on the table and rested his gloved hand upon Poland's, which he kept on the table. "I would enjoy that very much."

Poland's eyes brightened. "R-Really?"

"Really." Germany smiled and laced their fingers together. "I really would enjoy that."

...

Poland found himself standing in front of Germany's doorway one morning with a container of soups and spices held to his chest. He got a call from Germany saying something about not making it to their date, but he couldn't exactly understand because of how stuffed up and tired the other sounded on the side, and between all the coughing and sneezing, he barely caught a word before Germany hang up the phone. So, here he stood on Germany's front porch, determined to help out his new... boyfriend - God, he can't get used to saying that - with feeling under the weather.

He heard a small click, then the door slowly pulled open. Germany looked paler than ever, his usually glossy eyes an exhausted dull sheen and droopy, his clothes messy and carelessly thrown on, his sandy hair sticking out in all kinds of directions, and holding a tissue to his nose to wipe it clean.

"Oh, hello, Poled." He coughed into his tissue and sniffled. "What brigs you here?"

"You're sick, so I had to come help you." Poland walked past Germany with a bright little smile. "I'm going to help take care of you."

"Poled, you do't deed to." He sniffled and coughed again, pushing closed the door behind them. "I do't wat you gettig sick too."

"Don't worry, I'll be fine as long as I don't kiss you and clean everything you touch with gloves." Poland beamed at Germany, who had a soft blush crawl up on his cheeks.

"You thik so? You really wat to do this?" He threw the tissue away, then grabbed another one from the box on the kitchen counter.

"Of course I want to do this!" He held up the small tupperware in his hands. "I also brought soup!"

Germany chuckled, which turned to violent hacking into his arm. He recovered after quite a few coughs, then cleared his throat. "I cad see that. Thak you."

"You're welcome!" Poland giggled and motioned him to go to his bedroom. "Go go go, you need the rest."

"Okay, okay, I'b goig, I'b goig." Germany grinned and walked into his room as Poland watched him go.

"Good! I'll make you a drink, and when I come back, I want to see you in your bed with a bunch of fluffy pillows and a blanket around you. Okay?"

"Okay." Germany settled into his bed and snuggled himself in a blanket on his bed, grabbing for the stack of papers on the night stand, which Poland immediately caught.

"Hey! No working, no. You're sick." Poland slid on some latex gloves and snatched the papers from Germany's gloved hands. "No no no. You're going to rest, not work." He put the papers back in Germany's office, then made his way to the kitchen. "You hear me!?"

"Yes, I hear you, Poled," Germany called from his room.

"Good!"

Poland brewed some coffee in a coffee pot while he pulled out a bowl and a spoon, pouring the steaming soup into the bowl and swirling it around. A moment later, he heard the brewer beep, and poured it into a coffee cup. He then set it all on a tray and made his way to Germany's room, Germany struggling to breathe through all his coughing. He pulled away to the tissue and threw it into the trash next to the bed, laying back and closing his eyes.

"Do you feel awake enough to eat?" Poland settled onto the edge of the bed.

Germany opened his eyes again and rubbed his face. "I do, yeah." Germany smiled as Poland rested the tray on his lap. "It's too bad I ca't sbell it."

Poland smiled and pulled back, making his way toward the kitchen. "It's okay. If you need anything, I'll be in the kitchen."

"Poled, wait, cobe back." Germany reached out his gloved hand to Poland before he could walk out the door.

Poland turned around. "Do you need something?"

Germany sniffled. "Cad you stay ad watch TV with me?"

Poland's cheeks dusted a soft pink. "Sure. I can do that." He hesitated a moment before settling onto the other side of the bed.

A few moments later, he felt Germany's soft gloved hand take hold of his. His heart jumped in his chest, and he grinned as he snuggled into the pillows. He could never get used to Germany wanting to hold his hand. It felt like the most amazing feeling in the world for him.

He felt Germany's grip slowly fall lighter and lighter, then the soft wheezing of Germany's breathing evening out as he fell asleep. Poland looked over and saw Germany slightly curled into a slight ball, the soup completely gone and the coffee nowhere to be found. He hesitated a moment before slightly running his hand through Germany's incredibly soft hair, and pressing a hesitant kiss to Germany's forehead.

"I hope you get better soon."

...

Germany whistled to himself as he walked through the street toward his and Poland's meeting spot, his gloved hands rested in his pockets as he drifted into his own thoughts. He thought about how he might ask Poland about how the date might go this time when he heard someone cry out, the shout almost exactly like Poland's. He snapped his head over to the sound, and found Poland hunched over, clutching at his shin, and pressed against the wall in the alleyway.

Germany sprinted over in half a second and crouched down next to Poland. "Poland, are you alright? Did something happen?"

"I'm fine, I just... I accidentally ran into someone. I-It was just a kid, so I... yeah."

Germany rolled up the sleeve of Poland's pants and winced at the sight of bright red that greeted him. "Are you sure it was just a kid? This looks pretty bad."

"I-It's nothing. I promise." He gave a smile, but it didn't do much because of the welt now growing on his cheek.

Germany reached up and lightly brushed his gloved thumb over the bump on Poland's skin. "Are you sure? That doesn't look very good. It looks like someone bigger than a child hit you."

Poland swallowed hard and looked down with a slight dust of pink. "Yeah, it was just... I bumped into someone and... and tripped."

"Please tell me the truth?" Germany took hold of both sides of Poland's face, and Poland blushed even darker.

"... I-I just ran into someone and he punched me. And I fell. Sorry." Poland gave a hesitant smile.

Germany sighed and took a step back. “Come on, lets go get you some bandages.”

“But what a-about our-“

“We can just reschedule it, can’t we?” Germany gave Poland a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry. We can have our date another time, okay? It’s my turn to take care of you.”

Poland looked off to the side. “I don’t want to end the date just because of me,” he muttered.

“Why not? It’s perfectly fine.” Germany gave him a smile and patted his cheek. “Plus, it just means I get more time to spend with you. I get to walk you home and make sure you don’t get an infection.”

Poland nodded and gave a small nod. “Yeah, I… I guess so.”

“So we’re good.”

Germany tapped Poland’s nose. “Don’t worry about it. Now come on, let’s go get your leg cleaned up.” He held out his hand, which Poland took to stand up, and used as support for his leg as they walked toward Poland’s home. He helped Poland into his bed and grabbed some cloth, gently patting the dampened cloth on the gash, causing Poland to flinch and hiss.

“Sorry,” Germany muttered, “I’m going as fast as I can.”

“It’s fine,” Poland heaved, clutching at the edge of the bed and struggling not to bark out streams of insults and cussed toward the one helping him.

“Sorry, Poland.” He grabbed the bottle of hydrogen peroxide. “This is going to hurt a bit.”

He put a towel underneath Poland’s leg, then began pouring the clear liquid into the cut. Poland let through a strangled screech and threw his head back, quite a few choice words slipping from him. All the while, Germany kept muttering ‘sorry’s as he watched the white bubbles angrily eat at Poland’s flesh, then slowly die down. He then wiped the bubbles away. As one last measure to keep it from getting infected, he stuck one of the jumbo band-aids onto it.

“Thanks, Germany.” Poland gave Germany a smile and held out his hand.

Germany took hold of his hand with his gloved one and squeezed it as some sort of hug alternative. “You’re welcome. Now, why don’t we watch some TV? I can get you some ice for your cheek and some ibuprofen if-“

“N-No, it’s okay, I can get those myself. I’m okay.”

“I promise it’s no trouble.” Germany took his hand away and stood up. “I'll be right back. You start up a show, and we can start watching it together, yeah?"

"Sure." Poland smiled and laid against the pillows. "Thank you, Germany."

"You're welcome." He smiled and walked to the kitchen, grabbing some ibuprofen and an ice pack. He swiped a clean towel from the drawer and wrapped the ice pack in it, then filled up a glass with some water. Finally, he walked back into Poland's room and set down the array of items. He held up the small red-brown tablets to Poland, as well as the glass of water. "Here."

Poland took one and popped it into the mouth, then sipped some of the water. "Thanks." He rested the ice pack against his cheek, flinching at the sudden coldness. "What do you want to watch?"

"Any show would be nice."

"Like what? A TV show, or a movie, or...?"

"Anything." Germany took hold of Poland's hand. "You choose for us."

...

Poland heard the cheering die down behind him as he pushed open the balcony doors, staring out at the moonlit sea expanding into the distance below them, the refreshing smell of the ocean ridding him of the musty smell still stuck in his nose. He sighed and finally opened his eyes, jolting when he saw someone leaning over the marble balcony in front of him. He just about screamed until he saw the familiar white gloves, long-sleeve dress shirt, and black slacks. He let out a soft breath he didn't know he held as he took a step forward, clearing his throat to alert the other of his presence before he got too close.

Germany turned around, glasses glinting in the moonlight with his usual stoic expression on his face. He motioned Poland over, to which Poland obliged, before turning back around and leaning over the balcony. Poland took his place next to him, hands laced together as he looked out at the moon and stars in a comfortable silence. He felt his hair slightly wave in the faint breeze, and listened intently for the soft breathing of the one next to him. He found it relaxing somehow. Even with the party, piercing music muffled just behind the closed doors behind him. In some mysterious way, watching the soft glow of the sky and listening to the soft rhythm of the other's breathing did wonders to calm his rapidly beating heart.

The two settled in the comfortable silence stretching on, neither breaking it, neither pushing it. After all, the party no doubt provided enough social interaction to last both him and Germany the next ten years.

Then, Poland heard Germany shift and clear his throat.

Poland blinked out of his trance and turned toward Germany, who now faced him with one of those rare, handsome smiles from behind his glasses. He had his hand held out for the first time ever, his previously gloved hand now without a barrier of white leather. It didn't tremor, didn't move, didn't shake. It stayed in place, confident and quiet, inviting Poland to take it. Poland couldn't believe what he saw, taking a moment to reach for Germany's hand as though in a dream. Germany's hand felt like soft leather, warm and light as it folded itself around to encase his own hand. The sensation elated him, shocked him into disbelief, enraptured him.

"Poland."

Poland blinked and looked up at Germany, his smile still soft as his hand as he took a step closer, further closing the gap between them.

"Poland, I have never had someone like you. Someone I could... I could depend on. Someone I could trust. So, I just... I just wanted to give you my thanks."

Poland watched as Germany rested his arms around him, gently coaxing him closer to his chest. He rested his head on Poland's shoulder, a soft sigh escaping him and the faint, jumpy beat of his heart lightly thumping against Poland's hand. The closeness made Poland's head spin with an overwhelming sense of joy, a grin slowly growing its way across his face the more his brain recognized just where he stood. He felt Germany's hands rest naturally against the top of his spine and his lower back, barely touching him, yet somehow holding him securely, every other noise, sensation, and thought dying away.

Poland, careful not to rush, rested his arms around Germany, returning the reverent gesture with the utmost care. He didn't even feel a slight tense up from the other at his actions. Instead, he felt Germany's lips form a smile against his shoulder, as well as his heart calm itself to a slow, lulling rhythm not unlike his breathing. Time froze as they stood in each other's arms, neither of them speaking, nor moving from their small pocket of reality. Nothing could break Poland away from Germany in that single moment, even with the promise of space travel on the table.

Then, he felt Germany shift again.

He let his eyes open, not caring how they closed in the first place, and watched as Germany took his head off his shoulder and looked down at him. And then, he leaned down again, the sensation of warm, soft flesh against Poland's lips alerting him that, yes, Germany did what he could only imagine in his wildest dreams all those years ago. He again sighed and relaxed even further than originally thought possible, his hands unmoving as he lost himself to Germany. Time stood still, nothing but a white noise surrounding them as they kept each other close, not caring about anything else but each other.

All but too soon, Germany pulled away, a soft panting from the both of them unregistered as they gazed at each other, silence stretching on once more as they both smiled.

"I love you," Poland whispered, nuzzling into Germany's neck.

"And I you, Poland."

Germany lightly pressed his lips against Poland's temple, his fingers occasionally tracing patterns on the other's back, as they stood in the dead of night on the balcony.

"I love you too."

_..._

_And here's the final installment of the German Boi... series? Series. I love these two adorable little dorks so much!_

_Sorry this one is so short, though. Feel free to add onto this too! I would love to see what people come up with!_


	18. Relations

I mixed some of the stuff I wrote just because and requests in this one

...

Mexico stared out into the pale moonlight with shimmering green and red eyes, her hands rested upon the concrete windowsill. She pushed herself away from the window after a moment, walking through the house before coming upon the front door. She pushed the wooden doors open and walked out into the night, walking straight for her northern borders with a determined stare. She slammed down the wall she came across, watching as Texas snapped his head to her, his hat within his hand so his starred eye looked straight at her.

-Señorita México, ¿por qué está aquí? Usted no dijo nada sobre esto reunión.- Texas rested his hat back on his head to obscure his lone star.

-Jaj, tú recuerdas cómo hablar español.- Mexico rested her hands on her hips and grinned. "But I'm sure you don't remember how to speak much."

Texas lit a cigar and took a drag, puffing the smoke into the air between them. "Won't deny it."

"Good. I was afraid I would have to listen to you struggle to keep up with the conversation." She smoothed down her bright red and white dress. "And to answer your question, I wanted to see you. I'm surprised you're still around your borders." She took a step closer, to which Texas stood straighter. "Do you really hate my people so much?"

"No." He puffed at his cigar. "I don't. And as much as people want to believe, neither do many of my people. But, with the one who's running the country as of now, I have to 'protect my people' and help them feel more secure, so I have to do what they want of me." He chuckled and shook his head. "I never wanted to leave your people out this much."

-Bailas conmigo, mijo.- She held her hand out to Texas with a soft smile. "I haven't been able to dance with you in years. Ever since you were a handsome young man."

He chuckled and took hold of her hands. "A bit more deadly of a dance."

"True, very true." She swirled around in front of Texas, her dress flaring out. "But now, you have become a big, strong man." She hugged Texas close as they danced together. "I'm so proud of you."

Texas grinned and hugged her back. "Thank you, mamá. It's nice to hear that from you." He looked back over his shoulder toward the interior of his domain. "I don't know what to do anymore. This new immigration policy, it's-"

"I know, mijo." She reached up and took hold of his jaw, tilting his head back to face her. "Don't worry. We will find a way." She chuckled. "Making me pay for a wall he wants to build, what kind of lunatic does he think he is?"

Texas snickered. "Just some big businessman."

...

Great Japan walked within the capitol of one of his favorite pets. He strolled through the empty streets of the once bustling Nanjing, his stare cold and his face expressionless even as he passed numerous people who fell after soldiers gripping them and shoving them toward another part of the city with ropes binding them. Out into the distance, screams echoed in chorus with the cutting, vibrating sound of a machine gun firing. He wound his way further into the heart of his bleeding beast and stood in front of the building he desired. He almost felt a smile grow on his lips. He pushed open the door and found the one he desired sitting pretty for him with ropes around his wrists, a silk gag tied about his mouth, and two of Japan's soldiers standing by either side of the chair keeping him down. Japan dismissed the both of them, waiting until they made their way outside and closed the door behind them before speaking.

"Well well well. Look who it is." Japan rested his hands on both the arm rests of the chair, leaning in close to China's face. "You look terrible. Where did you get those bruises? It ruins your complexion."

China growled, but said nothing, tight-lipped and taut as he dug his nails into the ropes binding his hands together behind the chair.

Japan pulled back and stalked around the other, his mind racing with all the things he could do to the suffering pet. "I have a proposal." He slid the gag from China's mouth and dragged the silk down China's shoulder and along his arm.

"Pass." China stared straight at Japan, eyes blazing. "I don't need any more of your malicious meddling in my domain."

"Oh, becoming a bit more rebellious I see." Japan gripped China's jaw. "You forget that I own you."

"You don't own me," China snapped back, yanking at the ropes tying his wrists behind the chair.

Japan grinned and chuckled. "Oh, but I do. I'm going to set up a new government for you. Doesn't that sound great?"

"No it doesn't!"

Japan sighed and yanked off the rags barely intact to China's body. "I'm sorry?"

China swallowed hard and squirmed in the chair, trying to get away from Japan's hand climbing up his thigh. "I said... I said  _no it doesn't_."

Japan sighed and shook his head, gripping China's inner thighs. "You're so stubborn. Oh well. I am gifting you a new, better government whether you like it or not." He grinned and slid his hands up China's sides. "I'm sure you won't mind at all."

"Get your disgusting hands off me." China tried to land a kick to Japan's stomach, but Japan easily caught it and smoothed his hands down the skin there.

"Oh no. You can't hit me like that. You know this." He bit and dragged his teeth across the untouched skin, smirking down at China. "You remember what happens if you hit me, don't you?"

"I'm done taking orders from you!" China kicked at Japan's chest and yanked at his wrists. "It ends now!"

Japan sighed and shook his head. "Disrespecting your master."

"For the last time!" China kicked Japan's stomach and stood up on his chair, getting his wrists out from behind the chair and kicking Japan square in the chest, sending him flying backwards. "I don't take orders from you anymore! You are  _not_  my master!"

"Oh, I wouldn't be too sure about that." Japan pushed himself up, grinning as he stalked around China, a dagger twirling between his fingers. "You have other things to consider. For example..." Japan poked the back of China's neck, then jumped just out of his reach, "I've already put in puppet governments. And you can't  _stop_  me."

"No!" China tried to kick at Japan again, but Japan just stepped out of the way. "Stay out of my life!"

"Where has my little pet gone? Where did you go? You used to be such a sweetheart. You're so disappointing now. I wish you weren't so screwed up now. That Soviet monster is screwing with your head."

"Get away from me!"

"I want you to love me again." Japan gripped China close and lifted China up. "I want you to be my little sweetheart."

"I was never your sweetheart!"

Japan squeezed China's chest, and China gasped and squirmed, mouth bobbing open and closed like a fish out of water to gain some semblance of air in his lungs. "You were once with me. We once were together. We were once so sweet together." Japan relaxed his arms, and China panted.

"You locked me in my basement! You kept me isolated and took everything from me! You took away my business with the other countries!"

"You loved me." Japan nibbled on China's shoulder. "You wanted me. You  _needed_ me."

"You forced me to need you! You forced me to love you!"

Japan didn't seem to hear. "You needed me because you're so broken. You're impoverished and you need my help. You need me. You love me. I'm doing all of this for you."

"You're  _sick_! You're doing this for yourself!"

"I'm going to help you out of this pain. I'm going to love you. I'm going to help you for everything you need. You're going to love me. You need me. You love me." Japan moved his hands down to China's hips.

"I don't love y-" China choked as Japan forced open his mouth and shoved something down his throat.

"You love me. You'll love me for this. I'm saving you. I'm saving you with this. You'll love me. You'll love it. You love me. I'm helping you. I'm improving your life. You love me."

China choked and tried to spit out whatever Japan tried to force him to consume, kicking his legs back in all directions. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't stop it. He couldn't breathe.

"I'll make you love me. I'll save you. I'm saving you." Japan threw China to the floor and stepped on his back. "I love you. I want to help you, but you're not listening to me. I'm going to have to help save you, whether you like it or not."

_"Oh, Japan, thank you for saving me. Please save me, Japan. You're saving me. You saved me from my poverty. Please help me more. Oh, Japan, please, I love you."_

He grinned and pulled China up, hugging him close. "I love you so much, China. You are the love of my life. I've loved you for so long."

_"I loved you too, Japan. Please help me. I need you. I need you to help me. Thank you for helping me. I love what you're doing for me. I love you. I love you so much. I love you."_

"I will help you as much as I can. I love you." Japan squeezed China close. "I will never let you go. You'll always hold a special place."

_"I love you, Japan. Thank you for all you've done. Thank you."_

He felt China stop squirming. He grinned and walked out of the doors, humming to himself as he made his way to a truck outside. He will help China. He will help China finally reach his full potential.

Even if he has to act as a puppet for a little while to give him the love he deserves.

...

Philippines punched the wall with a scream and panted with frustration, his eyes blazing. Spain wouldn't leave him alone, no matter what he did! Nothing worked. No matter what he did, nothing took Spain or his family away from him.  _Nothing_. He had to get out. He had to take a walk. He needed some time to get away from it all. He needed to step away.

He walked out the front door and off into some random direction. He didn't care where he went, he just walked. He walked as far as he could. He didn't care where he ended up, or what might happen en route. He just needed a break. He walked for hours. He walked more than his feet could take. He walked without a care. He didn't recognize anything he walked through, but it didn't matter. He just kept walking.

He felt something stub against his toe. He screeched as he flew to the ground and landed with a low thumping sound. He punched the ground and jumped back to his feet, ignoring the burning pain when he stood up and whipped around to see what stood in his way. Sitting there in the dirt, innocently settled there, looked like something made of a shimmering silver. He frowned and took up the small silver thing and flipped it around a few times in his hands. What was this? He had never seen anything like this before. He ran his thumb along the strange engravings on it, and the little thing clicked.

He yelped as the bar began to shake and he threw it to the ground. The bar brightened and shot up a bright beam of silver, blue, and white, then stopped just a few seconds later. The ground around it looked charred and hissed with a few glowing embers with a few tendrils of smoke. He stared at it as he pinned himself back against the tree trunk behind him, waiting for the bar to do something else, to start ticking and explode or something, but it did nothing. He slowly relaxed and stood up, turning around a full three hundred and sixty to make sure no one speaking any Spanish started advancing in his direction, before he settled on the ground in front of the little silver bar again. He picked it up and turned it around a few times in his hand. Cool to the touch.

"Did you call me?"

He smacked his arm back and yelped as he shot to his feet, scrambling back and holding up the bar like a weapon.

In front of him, a woman with drapes of navy blue and red rubbed the side of her face, her eyes a fiery silver like the bar he held. "That's not very nice."

"What in the- What are- Who are you? Where did you come from? What are you doing here?" Philippines stepped back, his eyes narrowing.

"Oh, I apologize, where are my manners?" She spun around and, somehow, she floated through the air toward him, the ends of the fabric making some sort of tail which created a thin connection to the small silver bar in his hand. "I am America. I can give you anything you want." She drifted around him with her silver necklace collar around her neck glistening. "I can sense your deepest desires, and your most desperate wishes. I can give you anything you want so long as you keep me in your possession. I can take any form you wish, for any reason you like."

He stared down at the silver bar with a frown. "You can grant me anything?"

"Anything." America rested her- no, his hands on Philippines' shoulders. "I can give you anything you wish for."

Philippines opened his mouth to say something, then stopped himself. No, he shouldn't tell America what he wants. What if it's some sort of elaborate trap? This has to be some sort of Spanish magic. Spain was trying to get under his skin. "And how can I trust that?"

"You want Spain gone." America ran his hands through Philippines' hair. "You want to be left alone. You want nothing but autonomy, and you hate everything Spain did to your culture. You want your culture back. You want everything Spain did to you to disappear. You want your family traditions back."

Philippines swallowed hard and looked over at America. "How did you-"

"You want it all to go away, don't you? You want everything Spain did to stop? You want to return to your own culture?" America grinned at him, silver eyes shifting and swirling. "I can give that to you. I can give all of that back to you."

Philippines gripped at the silver bar. "And you're not some Spanish illusion, right? You're not going to crusade me to death?"

"No no. I don't plan on doing that." America grinned and pulled back. "I want to give you your freedom. I want to bring you to a better kind of society."

Philippines looked America up and down. "And how much would all that cost?"

"Nothing much, of course." America leaned against a tree and held out his hand. "So? Do we have a deal?"

Philippines looked down at the offered hand, then stared straight at America. "I don't trust you."

America stared at Philippines, his grin slowly forming back into a thin line. "What do you mean? I'm offering to give you freedom. Anything you want. Why would you throw that away? That seems so counterintuitive. Why would you want to do that?"

"You have something planned." Philippines turned around and crossed his arms. "I don't trust you."

"Why not? I can give you anything. I can give you everything you have ever wanted." America stood up and walked toward him. "I can give you anything."

"The more times you say it, the more suspicious it gets. What are you even planning? Because, you obviously have something in mind if you're acting this desperate." Philippines backed away, but America caught his arm.

"I can take the Spanish away from you. Just like that." He snapped his fingers. "In an instant."

"Why would you do that for me, though? What are you trying to play at?" Philippines tried to push America away. "Let go of me."

"Why don't I make this a bit clearer?"

A sharp shock jolted up his spine, and everything went black.

He groaned and gripped at the side of his head, blinking his eyes open and finding himself in a room with America, who had a bright little smile.

"See? No more Spanish."

Philippines looked around and found himself in his old home the Spanish had taken over. Sure enough, not a single trace of Spain's presence remained in the home. It looked almost the exact same as his home before the Spanish took over, except for the tiny red, white, and blue flag sitting in a flower pot. Why a flower pot? What kind of psycho puts their flag in a flower pot?

"You did it against my will. What are you trying to do!?"

"I'm helping you become a better society. I'm going to help you be more civil and first-worldly." America leaned back with a grin. Isn't that what you wanted?

"No!"

"I can help you." America brushed a hand along Philippines' cheek, to which Philippines smacked it away.

"I don't care what you can do! I don't want it, I don't need it, and that's final. Good  _day_!" He shoved America away, and America looked... hurt.

America looked down at the ground. "I don't mean to offend you, but-"

"Well, you're offending me! Now, get lost!"

"I can't."

"What do you  _mean_  you can't!?"

"I already granted you a wish."

Philippines made a screeching sound in frustration and slammed his fists on the table. "You mean to tell me I'm  _bound_  to you after you decided to take it upon yourself to do something I didn't even want to do!?"

"Um... yes. Look, I'm sorry. I just wanted to help you out, and-"

"I don't care! You just want to take my country for yourself and become a second Spain, don't you!?"

"No! I wanted to give you freedom! Look, I can give you religious freedom, human rights, and home rule. That's all I want for you."

"At what expense? Not governing myself?"

America sighed. "Look, Philippines, I don't want to hurt you at all."

"I'm sure you don't." He huffed and crossed his arms, looking away. "So, what? What do I need to do to get rid of you?"

America flinched. What for? The guy's obviously got some issues. "I don't know."

"What do you mean you don't know!?"

"I've never had someone actually call upon me like this before, this is kind of my first go around with this whole 'I can grant you wishes' thing!" America looked away for a moment. "I don't want anything to go wrong for you."

"Yeah, well you just fucked up with whatever the hell you just did for the both of us."

The two lapsed into an uncomfortable silence, the air thick and awkward. America looked like he wanted to say something, but Philippines didn't give him a chance. Instead, he just walked away, unwilling to listen to a thing America had to say. If he had to stay bound to America, then he could at least make the best of a terrible situation. What can he do in this situation, he didn't really know, but he had to come up with something.

"Look, I can tell my people are at least happy with the whole freedom things you installed, but you have to cool it with the forceful reign here. We already had enough of that with Spain."

"Right. Sorry." America cleared his throat. "Sorry. I'll try to fix that."

"And stay away from me."

America blinked. "What?"

"Stay away from me. If I need you, I'll come to you."

America opened his mouth to say something, but Philippines already walked out the door and to his room. America closed his mouth and looked down at the table, unsure of what to say or do in this situation. Should he try and pursue Philippines? Should he follow what Philippines said? He didn't exactly know what to do anymore. So, he decided to follow Philippines' orders stayed put, sitting in his seat and waiting for Philippines to come back.

...

America looked down at the paperwork upon his desk, staring at the words which now all jumbled together and looked like foreign symbols upon blank white paper, somehow obscuring his ability to read any of it. Not that he could even pay attention right now. As he looked at the statistics graphs of the foreign relations to other countries, his mind drifted off back to the countries he failed, and the countries he fell out with.

_“You’ve taken everything from us!”_

_North Vietnam threw a punch to America’s jaw, who still stood in between him and South Vietnam. He clutched at his face, his nose and temple already trickling dark red._

_“Why can’t you just go back to isolating yourself and butt out!?”_

_North Vietnam slammed his knee into America’s chest, all of the air knocked out of him and making him collapse to the floor, which North Vietnam followed up with a punt to his chin and sending him flying backward. His jaw hung loosely as he coughed and tried to push himself off the floor, only for another kick to blow against his back and a foot pin him to the ground._

_“This is our war. None of it was ever your to begin with! No matter what you did, it was always at our expense!”_

_North Vietnam gripped America’s head and yanked it back, his sunglasses skewed to show off scars marring the skin all around his silvery white eyes. Eyes which looked pained and… maybe a bit fearful. “Mẹ-uy always preferred you. It’s because of you that we don’t have anything to call our own! You ruined our lives! You’re the source of all our problems!”_

_He shoved his head against the concrete with a **CRACK!!!**  Not a second later, he forced his head back up again. America looked up at North Vietnam with cracked sunglasses and a bleeding forehead, but North Vietnam glowered back, completely unaffected._

_“Neither of us wanted you here! This was our war!"_

_He could hear chuckling in the background. He could see that tall figure, and that damn tan trench coat._

_"You should have never even come at all!"_

America rubbed a hand down his face and pushed away the papers. His eyes felt tired, his shoulders slumped, his back ached.

_"You told me you were helping me!"_

_Iran held the gun to one of America's citizens, tears streaming down her face as she gripped them close._

_"You told me you were helping my country! You said you were helping me!"_

_"Iran, I was." America held up her hands, trying to seem less threatening. "I was! If you had fallen to Communism-"_

_"Turkey told me you only did it for the resources!" Iran gripped the citizen's neck harder and pressed them closer. "Is it true? Did you only do it for the resources? Was that all I was to you? Was I only a power plant to you all this time? Is that all I ever was to you!?"_

_"No, Iran, no. No, you were so much more than that." America tried to step forward, but Iran stepped back and pressed the gun closer to the citizen's head. "Please, Iran, I never wanted to hurt you. I never meant to hurt you like this. Please, I love you."_

_"Stop lying! Stop it!" Iran shook her head over and over. "No no no, I was only an oil plant to you. That's all I was. An oil plant, and a source to help you during the Cold War. You used me for everything I had!"_

_"No, Iran, please. I didn't use you." America held out her hands to Iran. "Please. We were close for so long for a reason. I wanted to be close to you. I was one of the first to recognize you. Doesn't that mean anything?"_

_"You wanted me only for my resources. You wanted me just for my oil and my location. That's all you wanted from me." Iran clawed at the citizen's neck. "You wanted me just for what I had, and not for me."_

_"I did want you for you." America tried to come closer, and she succeeded in getting a single step without Iran backing away. "I wanted you because I thought you looked amazing. I wanted to be with you from the moment I saw you. Please." She took another step, and Iran again didn't move. "I wanted to be with you. I love you. I didn't just keep you around for your resources. Please." She successfully rested her hands on Iran's cheeks, gently wiping the tears there away. "Please, let's just talk like old times. Let's just have fun."_

_Iran dropped the citizen to the ground and hid her face in her hands, small sobs escaping her. "America. America."_

_"I know." She pulled her close to her chest and played with her hair, hushing her. "I know. I'm sorry. I'm sorry, my darling. I'm sorry."_

He stared down at the table from between his fingers and blinked away the blurriness growing in his eyes. He angled his head downward and shook his head.

_America watched in shock and horror as the building collapsed in slow motion and New York fell to the ground. He stared straight at Afghanistan, whose body twitched and eyes blipped between black and green, and white and black, the unstable country stepping forward and standing right in front of New York's pained body._

_"You should have left me alone. You should have just stayed out of my affairs."_

_Afghanistan slammed his foot into New York's stomach, and the second tower folded in on itself, smoke and dust flying out in all directions, creating a plume around it._

_"You just couldn't stay away from us. No. No, you had to just worm your way into everything we did."_

_Afghanistan stomped on New York's head, and a plane crashed near the Pentagon._

_"Well now you're going to pay. You'll pay for coming in and ruining my country. You will continue to suffer. You will suffer beyond this day."_

"America?"

America scrubbed his face clean and looked up. "Hm?"

Israel settled down on the chair next to him and took hold of his hand. "Is something wrong?"

He ran his free hand down his face. "I don't know."

"You look like you do know." She played with his fingers, pressing a soft kiss to his temple. "You know you can tell me anything."

He rested his head on her shoulder. "I don't know. I just... I guess the Cold War is messing with me again."

"I understand." She took hold of his hand and pulled him up. "Come to bed with me. You've been working for hours now."

He let her drag him to their bedroom, then pull him under the covers. She slid off his shirt and laid against his chest, tracing soft patterns with the tip of her pointer finger across his skin. He let her do what she wanted, simply resting a hand upon her side, and staring out in front of him from behind his sunglasses. He shouldn't feel so guilty about the past, he really shouldn't. But, whenever he started writing about foreign policies...

He curled a bit tighter around Israel, which she seemed to notice. She didn't say anything, somehow knowing he didn't want to talk about it as of now, and continued to trace over his skin. He occasionally brushed his thumb over her side, a simple back and forth motion, before stopping again. He didn't know what to think. Maybe sleep could fix this. He hadn't slept much - if at all - in the past few days.

"Good night, my love," Israel murmured, to which she pressed a kiss to America's chin. "Please get some rest before you go to work again. You need it."

He angled his head down and kissed her forehead. "I won't be leaving this bed for a few hours."

She smiled and snuggled him closer. "Good."

...

Germany had an arm rested around Poland's shoulder as he laid against Germany's chest, idly twirling his fingers through the soft chocolate brown hair and staring up at the ceiling. He had an internal debate with himself, wondering if he should ask Poland about what he felt like, or just leave it alone because of his uncertainty. He knew he couldn't take it all the way, he couldn't handle that just yet, but he wanted to see how close he could actually get out of his comfort zone. He brushed a hand along the side of Poland’s neck, and Poland turned to look at him.

“Do you need something?” Poland had a relaxed smile on his face, his eyes softened and light.

“I wanted to ask you if you would like to help me more out of my comfort zone.” Germany brushed his thumb down Poland’s bottom lip.

“I would love to. What did you have in mind?” Poland snuggled closer to Germany.

“I want to see how far I can go with…” he cleared his throat, then ran his hand along the inside of Poland’s thigh, “this.”

Poland’s eyebrows raised a bit in surprise. “Sure, if that’s what you want. Just know you can call it quits at any time.”

Germany smiled and coaxed Poland up and into a kiss with a small murmur of ‘thank you.’

Germany slid his hands through Poland’s hair with a soft hum as he held the other close, Poland’s knees now resting on either side of his waist and brushing his hands up and down his chest. He slid his hands down to Poland’s waist and traced along the soft skin there, causing a light tingling to wave its way up Poland’s back and spread out to his hands, which elicited a soft hum in content from him as he moved his own hands over Germany’s sides and chest. Germany kissed from Poland’s lips, to his jaw, and worked his way down his neck from there as he held Poland closer. He felt Poland shift and mewl from his touch, holding his waist and angling his head in all different directions so to better give Germany access. Germany smiled against his skin and massaged over Poland’s torso, moving his hands along the soft lines and the smooth edges there as he kissed and nuzzled down his neck and along his shoulder. Poland made a small sound, then took hold of Germany’s jaw and leaned down to him and catch Germany in another kiss. He smoothed his hands over Germany’s skin and tried to trace over anything he found made Germany utter even the slightest sound, or the hint of a shiver. Germany’s hand moved to Poland’s hair and entangled themselves there as his other hand took hold of Poland’s hip, occasionally tracing the soft line of his hip bone there with his thumb while his head angled back into the pillows with his eyes squeezed shut. Poland took this opportunity to kiss and mouth along the front of Germany’s throat, his hands traveling lower and lower every time he stroked the tips of his fingers up and down Germany’s sides and chest. He felt Germany tense up and suck in a sudden breath when he lightly rubbed against him through his clothes, and he immediately pulled away.

“I’m sorry, was that too much?” Poland brushed a hand along Germany's cheek and nuzzled his neck.

Germany swallowed hard and looked off to the side. "Just a little bit, I don't think I can go... go that far yet."

"That's fine. Take your time." Poland nuzzled along Germany's neck, kissing and running his tongue over the slightly sweet skin below him. "I can just stay up here for now."

Poland squeezed Germany's hips and laid on top of him, nibbling on Germany's skin and extracting a few soft sounds ranging from mewls to muffled whines. Poland never went any further than Germany's hips, kissing and running his hands everywhere from above that point to get as many noises as he could. Germany had his head pressed back into the headboard, panting against it, and clutching at Poland's back as he lost himself in the attention Poland provide.

"That's en- enough." Germany rested a hand on Poland's head and tilted it up to look at him. "I think I- I can't handle any more."

Poland smiled and lifted himself off of Germany, pecking Germany's cheek and settling onto the bed next to him and propping his head up. "Would you like to have a shower with me?"

Germany shook his head and his cheeks flushed brighter. "I-I don't know. I don't think I could... I don't know."

"Don't worry about it." Poland squeezed Germany's hand and pulled away to walk toward the bathroom. "I'll just get it ready for you so you can take one, okay?"

Germany smiled and reached for his hand. "Thank you, handsome."

Poland pushed open the door with a happy little smile and squeezed Germany's hand one last time. "You're welcome." He disappeared into the bathroom. A few moments later, he popped his head back out. "It's ready for you."

Germany smiled and got up from his place on the bed, walking toward the bathroom with a shirt and some undergarments in his arms. "Thank you. I'll be out in a few minutes. Are you using the guest bathroom, then?"

"I think I will." Poland pressed a light kiss to Germany's cheek. "I'll see you in a few minutes."

The two parted ways to get themselves cleaned off for the night and converged back in the bedroom, where they settled into the bed together with their hands entwined and their bodies laid close to one another, Germany slightly curled around Poland, and Poland holding Germany's hands close to his chest with his own.

"So, what made you want to take the jump like that?" Poland pressed a light kiss to the back of Germany's hands.

"I've wanted to push out of my comfort zone for a while now. I just didn't know if I wanted to do it when I felt so unsure if I wanted to go the whole way through." Germany nuzzled close to Poland, who nuzzled him back.

"I understand." Poland snuggled into Germany with a soft sigh and entangled their legs together. "I'm glad you trust me so much."

"And that you trust me." Germany kissed the side of Poland's head and pulled back just enough to have a view of Poland's shimmering white and red-pink eyes.

The two settled into a calm quiet, the sounds of the summer night now drifting in through the open window behind the headboard. Both parties listened to the ambience, staring into each other's eyes while playing with each other's fingers and losing themselves in each other, neither breaking their gaze, and holding each other close. The proclamations of love passed through the air silently as they finally let themselves rest for the night, drifting into sleep.


	19. Dadiet

Someone requested I did more Dadiet, so I decided to do it. Some of these can be seen as continuations of British America, and others can be seen as just 'what if America was Soviet's son' kind of thing, and others still about things I have been making with a friend of mine. I mean, theoretically they could all fit in British America's continuity, but it's honestly up to you whether or not they are.

America rubbed his tired eye with the heel of his cold hand as he put in the final piece of his engineering project, then screwed it closed. He finally did it. He finished his project after working all night and nearly all day. As he flipped the switch and watched the little robot start rolling, then transformed and started walking, he felt his chest swell with pride. He got it to work. He got the project to work! Now him and Russia would definitely get a good grade!

America took up the little robot and sprinted down the hall to Russia's room. "Russia! Russia! I got it to work!"

Russia looked up from the poster and the diagrams spread out over the floor. "You did? What was wrong with it?"

"The battery wasn't hooked up correctly and the wires were mixed up. I got it all straightened out, though." America held up the little robot with pride lighting up his face.

"Oh, good." Russia looked over at the clock on the wall. "Did you do the dishes and dust the dining room?"

He blinked. "Uh, no. Why?"

Russia sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "America, if you don't do all your chores, dad will lock you in your room for the whole rest of the day."

America froze, his heart stopping in an instant. "What?"

"He's going to lock you in your room." Russia looked over at him, then back at the second part of the project. "You have to do them before dad gets home, or he's sending you straight to your room."

America shot to his feet and sprinted out the door, his anxiety spiking higher than it had in months. Soviet would no doubt be home in a few moments at most. He had to finish it. He had to clean. He had to finish cleaning.

He threw plates into the dishwasher as fast as he possibly could. He kicked closed the dishwasher, then frantically swiped the duster over every surface in the living room. He heard the front door open and  _his father's voice scream at him._

 _"British_ America _!"_

He flinched and scrambled up to his feet. He saw  _his father_ in his vision and froze in place, the duster still held in his hand.

He heard  _his father growl and stomped toward him, unbuckling the belt and yanking it out. "I am going to give you so many lashes, you won't be able to bleed by the end of the hour!"_

He curled into a ball in the corner, hyperventilating and clawing at the top of his head with tears streaming down his face even as his eyes stayed wide. No. No. No.

_"What have I told you about not finishing your chores when I tell you to!? You stupid, disgusting, foolish little boy! Pick up your head and look at me! I want to see you recognize your wrongdoings!"_

America shakily picked his head up and saw  _his father crouched down, glowering at him and smacking the belt with a loud 'CRACK!!!'_

"America. America,  _why don't you uncurl from that ball of yours and take the punishment like a man!"_

America flinched and uncurled from his little protective ball, waiting for agony to strike him when-

He felt hands rest upon his shoulders instead. He jolted and pinned himself against the wall, clawing at it as he squeezed his eyes shut. "I'm sorry, sir, I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I won't do it again. I won't do it, please, don't do it. Don't do it, please. Please, I promise I won't do it again. I'll be on time. Please, sir, please-"

He felt a light touch brush over his cheeks, and he immediately shut his mouth. He needed to keep quiet if he wanted his father to keep from doing something worse than just... than just...

He heard a voice speaking to him, and felt the touch swipe back and forth across his cheekbones, the hands rested on his cheeks not making an advancement of any kind. Wait, that doesn't make sense. Why would his father ever act this way when- no. No, that must not be his father. Who was it then?

He hesitantly opened up his eyes to find Soviet in front of him, his golden eyes shifting with something behind them, even with a reassuring, soft smile to greet him. He saw Soviet's lips move, but his ears rang too much for him to hear. He didn't finish all the chores. He didn't dust all of the dining room. He didn't finish. Now he's going to get locked in his room. He's going to get locked in his room for  _days on end without anything to help him he's going to lose his eating privileges he's going to have nothing he's going to starve for weeks on end he's going to suffer for not being on time he's going to get the belt he's going to get more punishment-_

"Please, sir, I-I don't want to be locked in my room, please. I promise it won't happen again, I promise I'll be on time, I promise I won't be late again. Please don't lock me in my room. Please, I'll do anything, please."

"What were you not on time with?" Soviet brushed a hand through his hair.

"I didn't- I tried to do it faster- I tried to- I-"

"Take a deep breath, little one. Step back a minute." Soviet took hold of his hands and rested them over Soviet's heart, the beat slow and rhythmic. "Take a deep breath with me, alright?" Soviet took a slow breath, and he struggled to match, but took a deep breath as told. "There you go. What were you not on time with?"

He whimpered and looked down at the floor. "I- I didn't finish my chores and-" he squeezed his eyes shut. "Please, sir, I-I don't want to be locked in my room. I'm sorry I didn't finish my chores, I'm sorry. It won't happen again. It won't happen, I promise."

"Oh no, little one, you won't be locked in your room." He felt Soviet's hand brush along his cheek. "You just won't be able to hang out with your friends for the night. That's all." Soviet held him closer. "Besides, they're not supposed to be done until supper. You have time."

He swallowed hard and opened his eyes to look up at Soviet. "Y-You mean that I-"

"You have time. And I'm not locking you in your room." Soviet pressed a light kiss to his forehead. "You have time."

He had a new lease on life. He gripped at Soviet's trench coat and sobbed constant thanks to him, promising that he wouldn't fail him.

"No no, little one, it's alright." Soviet lifted up his chin. "There's no need to worry. It's alright. You can finish dusting, and then you can do whatever you want for the night." Soviet carded his hand through his hair. "How did your project go? I know you've been working hard on it ever since yesterday."

He pulled back and rubbed at his eye. "I finished it," he murmured, looking down at the floor.

"You did? That's good. May I see it?" Soviet held out a hand to him. "I want to see it working and not just lamely rolling on the desk like last night."

He let out a small, meek chuckle. "Yeah." He took hold of Soviet's hand and stood up, then started walking toward his bedroom. "I think I left it in Russia's room. I wanted to show him first  and all that."

He knocked on Russia's door and pushed it open to find Russia with headphones in, head bobbing some music while working on typing up the rest of the project report.

"Russia?"

Russia looked up and paused the music. "Something you need?"

"Where is the robot?" He cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck. "I wanted to show Soviet the finished product."

Russia tossed the little ball robot to him. "Have at it. I've got all the schematics and diagrams up to date now."

He turned back to Soviet, who stood on the other side of the threshold. "It works with a little switch." He kneeled down and rested the ball on the ground, then flipped the little switch. The ball began to roll, then it transformed into a little robot and took a few steps before transforming back into a ball and staying in place. "Do you uh... do you like it?"

He looked up and saw Soviet smile at him, kneeling down and hugging him. "You did so well. I'm so proud of you, little one."

"You think so?" He curled into Soviet's hold, a small spark of pride forming in his chest.

"I do. The transition between modes is very smooth." Soviet pulled back with a bright grin. "Would you like to help make supper with me?"

He nodded. "But, what about-"

"Don't worry about that for now. You can make supper with me, alright? That can be the replacement." Soviet pulled him into a soft hug. "Don't worry about it."

...

America looked through the library full of books from top to bottom as he zoned out in his mind, walking his fingers along a few books, one after another, then came upon one without a mark on it in a secluded corner of the library. He tilted his head to the side a bit and pulled it out, the curiosity overwhelming him. He pulled open the book and flipped through the book. It had notes of all kinds in it. Some looked hand written while others looked typed up. Most all of them had dates, times, and locations on them, but a few looked like small proclamations of love with either a B as the initial, or an S. Soviet for one of them, but what about the one with a B? He continued to flip through the book until he came upon a photo. A single photo.

No. No, it couldn't be. No. No, this was fake. No.

In the grayscale photo, positioned in the middle with bright, smiling faces, stood Dad and... and UK.

He dropped the book to the floor and scrambled back from it. No. No, it couldn't be true. That had to be staged. It was a fake.

"America, are you alright? I heard something fa-"

America looked up at Dad and pointed to the book, desperate to have his fears doused. "That's fake, right?"

Dad looked between him and the book on the floor, his golden eyes conflicted and... maybe even guilty.

"They're fake, right? Right?" He started becoming more and more desperate, gripping at Dad's hand. "It has to be fake, right?"

"America-"

"You mean to tell me the reason UK hated me was because I was the bastard child between him and you?" He bit back tears. "Why didn't you just take me? Why did you leave me with him? He said he didn't want me to you, so why did you make him take me?"

Dad rested both his hands on America's shoulders. "I couldn't take you, America. I wanted to take you so badly. I wanted to keep you with me with all my heart. But, he had other plans." He rested his forehead against America's. "I wanted to keep you safe."

"How would keeping me with UK make me more safe?" America clutched at Dad's wrists. "He never cared for me in the first place. Why would being with someone who hated me be safe?"

"UK had more monetary access than me at that point. When we were... together... I was barely able to even pay for my own wellbeing. I also had some nasty people after me. If I had you with me, I don't think either of us would have lived long." Dad's eyes grew more and more glossy as he tried not to break down crying himself. "I wanted so much to keep you. To have you close to me and show you as much love as I possibly could. I wanted to come back for you every waking moment. But, as much as it pained me, I knew I would rather you be alive than dead in a dumpster because of some stupid mistake I made with some rough characters." He ran his hands through America's hair and pulled him close to his chest. "I wanted to see you. I wanted to take you back." He pressed a soft kiss to the top of America's head. "I'm so sorry, my son. I'm so sorry."

America curled into Dad's hold and whimpered. "Dad, he told me that my mother hated me. He told me she left me. For all this time."

"I'm so sorry, my son. I'm so sorry. I love you so much." Dad sounded on the verge of tears with shaking hands tracing up and down America's back. "I love you."

"Why didn't you take me back sooner? Why couldn't you have taken me back when you had Russia? And Ukraine? And Kazakhstan? And Belarus?"

"UK didn't want me to take you back. He said he had an image to keep up when he married France." Dad pressed a light kiss to his forehead. "I wanted to take you back so much. But now, I have you, and I promise I will never let you go."

...

Russia hummed to himself and colored in his little coloring book, bouncing his head from side to side along with the beat he made. He colored in a little part of the bear with his brown colored pencil, waving it back and forth over the page and making streaky lines. Russia looked up at his Vater, who sat in his chair with an easel in front of him, using a tiny two-bristle brush to color in some fine details on his painting. He looked out the glass double doors into something in the distance, then went back to stippling in a few minor details. Russia looked down at his little bear, then to the landscape Vater made, then back again. Maybe he could make a landscape for his bear too. Maybe then he can show Papa!

"Vater?"

"Yes, Sohn?" Vater pulled away from his painting and looked down at Russia.

"When is Papa gonna get home?" Russia poked at the paper of his coloring book.

Vater bit his lip and looked off to the side, almost like he felt unsure how to answer. "I... In a few days."

Russia pouted and looked down at his book. "Papa's never home. Why can't Papa come home more?" Russia brightened and looked up at Vater. "Papa should quit his job! Then he can be with us more!"

Vater swallowed hard and put down his brush, then slowly turned around toward Russia. "Papa can't quit the job he has, Sohn. He..." he struggled to find the words, "he loves it too much. And, he wants to keep us happy and safe and full."

"How come you and Papa are always sad and cry when he comes home, then? You said crying means you're sad."

Vater cleared his throat, looking on the verge of tears. "Because I'm happy to see him. I'm happy he's home."

"Then why doesn't he come home more?"

Vater shuddered and shoved his face in his hands. "Because he needs us to be safe and happy."

Russia felt confused. Why did Vater look so sad? Maybe he should leave Vater alone...

Russia slipped out of Vater's art room, flinching when he heard Vater shut the door behind him and let through a strangled sob.

(Interested to see why Third's so upset? Stay tuned for the future chapters of Familie!)

...

Soviet rubbed his face, trying to scrub his face clean of the exhaustion and stress that now seemed permanently etched into his face. He pushed himself up and stared into the darkness of his room, unsure of what to do to calm his mind after such long hours of constant stress. He debated pulling out a book and turning on a light when he thought that, no, this couldn't end well; Nazi finally got to sleep after weeks of sleepless and restless nights, and he didn't want to take that away from him. Instead, he thought of another way to help himself, a way which he became accustomed to after having three children and splitting up the work between him and Nazi.

He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to Nazi's forehead, slowly pulling away so not to disturb him, before he grabbed his radio and keys. He opened the front door and locked it behind him, leisurely making his way through the forest around their house. With a calm silence around him, and a removal of the buzz of the day, he could move about as he liked, with the time and the setting to let his mind crash and burn. His mind running a million kilometers a minute, he settled down on the edge of the small pond, watching a small trout idly swim by at his feet under the pale moonlight. He let his mind run wild, go off on all the stresses he still had from throughout the ages, when he heard the radio beep in his pocket, making him jump. No one else ever stayed awake this late into the night, who could it possibly-

"Bà?" whispered a voice on the other side. "Are you awake?"

He pulled out his remote and pushed the little button, a bit of concern settling over him. "Nam? I am, are you alright?"

"I need help with something."

"Has something happened?" Soviet stood up slowly, his concern growing ever more. "Do you need help?"

"Can you make it over here as fast as you can?"

"I can. How long can you wait?" He started jogging back to his home, his concern growing into an uneasy dread. "Are you hurt?"

"Please, just hurry." With that, South clicked off the radio.

"Nam?" he called again. "Nam, can you hear me? Nam?"

He threw his radio into his pocket with a seething curse, sprinting back toward the house as fast as he could, his mind running even more wild than he thought possible. He had to find them. What if they're in danger? What if they're hurting?

He keyed open the front door and slammed open the door to the garage, sitting in his red sports car and driving as fast as he could. He drove faster and faster through the streets, down from North Silk Road, to its southern counterpart, and further into the southeastern district. He screeched to a halt in Indochina. He looked up at the home in front of him, walking up to the front door and pounding against its surface.

"Nam!? Are you alright!?"

A door opened, and South Vietnam stood on the other side, her gold and red eyes glossy with stains of previous tears. "Soviet?"

"Oh, no, what happened?" He kneeled down to her and took hold of both her hands. "Are you alright?"

"It's Đại Việt. Mẹ ơi came to visit us today, and she- she pulled out a gun and-"

"Where's Viet?" Soviet pulled her closer. "Is he alright?"

"He's been shot," South stuttered, hugging Soviet and shoving her face in his neck. "I-I don't know if he- if he's-"

He picked her up and walked inside. "Where is he? Is he in his room?"

"Yes, he- he's in his room-"

"Call Austria for me." He walked down the hallway and pushed open North Vietnam's bedroom door.

On the other side, he found North Vietnam curled into a ball on the floor, blood staining his stomach and the floor around him. He kneeled down to North and lifted up his shirt, internally cringing at the sight of the bullet wound ripping through his abdomen and pouring blood down and all around him.

"Viet? Viet, can you hear me? Viet?"

North's eyes looked foggy and glassy. Soviet made a small sound and pulled North closer, ripping his shirt to use it as some sort of makeshift gauze.

"Viet, try and stay alive. Please don't leave. Viet."

North's hand weakly held Soviet's tan trench coat. "Bà ơi?"

"Yes, Viet?" Soviet ran a hand along his cheek. "What is it?"

"Can I see Đại Nam? I want to see her before-"

"Yes. Yes, you can see her." He called for South behind him. "Nam, your brother is calling for you."

South scrambled into his room and fell to her knees in front of North. "Đại Việt? Are you-"

He gripped her hand and pulled her close. "I'm sorry I couldn't protect you."

"No no no, Đại Việt, please-"

"I love you."

"No, please, Đại Việt."

"You and I both know Austria won't make it in time." North Vietnam hugged South Vietnam close. "Promise me you'll stay with Bà ơi and not Mẹ?"

"I can't do that, Việt."

"Yes you can. You're not bound to Mẹ." He gave her a smile. "Just please do this for me. Please?"

She pressed him close with a whimper. "If you say so. I'm sorry."

"There's no need to be sorry." He patted her shoulder. "You knew Mẹ hated me."

"But, she didn't have to end it like this."

"You knew she would do it some time." He rested his head on her shoulder. "Just promise me you'll stay with Bà ơi, please."

She nodded. "I will. I will. I promise."

Soviet rested a hand on South's shoulder and took hold of North's hand. "Viet, please, you have to hold on."

North didn't answer.

"N-No, he's not gone yet. He's not gone." South looked up at Soviet. "He can't be gone."

"I'm sorry."

\---

I'm really sorry this is so short, it seems so below par, and that I haven't updated in a while. I've been trying to figure out what I wanted to write because I don't really know what to write. Does that make sense? Hopefully. I'm sorry for not updating.


	20. Museum

**Here she is. The monster chapter I've been working on for nearly two months. I hope you all enjoy it. Also, thank you so so so so _so_  much to a close friend of mine (you know who you are) for helping me out with this chapter! I was pretty stuck for a while, and this really helped me out!**

**Without further ado, let's end my hiatus, and continue on with the episode!**

**\---**

Soviet struggled to stay awake, clutching at the bar and coughing up the crimson red liquid. He could feel himself drifting away, leaving the world for forever, with nothing to remind the world of what he gave. He felt himself fading, disappearing into the background, disintegrating into nothing. He felt his grip loosening, and saw the world grow black for the last time.

.

His head felt fuzzy, and his body felt numb. He tried to push himself up. He felt like he just woke up drunk. He blinked open his eyes to see newly paved concrete below him, and linked, shining metal chains swirling around him, leading straight back to himself. He stumbled to his knees and rubbed his eyes, then forced himself to look up. In front of him, he saw a thick glass spanning his entire wall and bent around a round room with glistening, plastic wood floors like the ones found in a school gym, and a little placard stood on a metal stand. He frowned and tried to walk to it, the clinking of chains following him all the way there. He pressed his face and hands to the glass and narrowed his eyes.

_Union of Soviet Socialist Republics (USSR)_

_1922 - 1991; North-Northwestern Asia, Eastern Europe_

_This country was actually made up of fifteen different countries. This country had a Communist rule, which gave the government complete power, a totalitarian regime not unlike the Third Reich they fought during the 1940's. This country spanned over 11 of the 24 time zones, and took up 13.9 million square kilometers (8.65 million miles), an area equal to nearly one sixth of the world's land surface. This country is the successor to the Russian Empire of the Tsars following the 1917 Revolution._

In the corner of the placard, he saw a map with a red color filling in where his country resided, and his multiple flags under the map.

Where did he end up, some kind of zoo!?

He banged against the glass and screamed. This has to be some sort of mistake. "Hey! Hello!? Anyone there!?"

Nothing answered, no one walked in.

He swore and kicked the glass with all his might, but the glass did nothing but slightly wobble. He sighed slowly and walked back against the wood wall behind him, the skin around his neck pulling and aching at the metal cuff encasing it. He crossed his arms and stared out into the room, then to the door leading to the interior of the room.

_BANG BANG BANG!!!_

Soviet jumped and snapped his head back toward the wall behind him. He waited in silence, then he heard a voice.

"Keep it the fuck down, or the Historians might hear you."

He blinked. "... Nazi?" He growled and clenched his fist. "I thought I sent you to the grave."

"Nice to hear you too, princess, now shut the fuck up already. I don't want to be a wax figure again because  _you're_ too excited to get out of here."

A wax figure? Historian? What's all of this supposed to mean?

He heard an ear-piercing ringing stab through his ear. He made a pained sound and curled into a tight ball, tears streaming down his face as he tried to drown out the sound. He slammed his head repeatedly against the wall, the other pain distracting him for only a half a second before the ringing became unbearable again. He clawed at his head around his ears and struggled out a yell, but nothing drowned it out. He couldn't get away from it.

Just like that, it stopped.

He panted and let his head fall to the wall, tears pricking at his eyes and his body shivering. He took a moment to turn around and see if anything had changed in his donut glass cage and, sure enough, something changed. Something  _big_. He watched as people started walking inside. He shot to his feet and sprinted to the window, his hands clenched into fists and pressed against the glass.

"Hey! Hey, get me out of here! I don't belong here!"

The one at the front, some man in a suit with a cane topped by a brass globe stared up at him, a bright grin lighting up his face. He stepped forward and rested his hand on the placard and pushed against his place on the map, which acted like a button that-

His mind convulsed. He grunted and fell to his knees, fingers clawing at the glass. He tried to fight it, to push off the pain which became ever more intense, but he couldn't. It infected his mind, crawling to all corners, and burning the back of his eyes. He needed to get away from-

He heard gunshots.

He blinked open his eyes and stared around. Bayonets pointed in lines at his people standing behind him on the streets. Cannons lined the outskirts, cars and horses sped and galloped around, shouting bellowed from behind him. He saw his father standing straight in front of him, shoulder pads of gold, a sash of gold and one of blue, a high collar of gold, and a coat of a pitch black. Multi-colored metals decorated the fabric upon his coat.

He felt his body lurch forward and his voice scream with fury. He launched into battle, not knowing for sure if one shot became his last, or if one bad move could cause his execution. He made his way up to his father, and he could see the fear within those burning golden eyes which matched his own. He fought on and on until he got a chance to finally point a gun to his father's head, where he fired his last shot in his bayonet straight into his chest, killing the gold from his eyes to a lifeless grey.

Joy flooded his systems, and he thrust his first into the air, crying out for the world to hear.

The sounds of guns ceased, and the scene morphed and changed. He saw himself standing in the streets with his people, watching as a flag of a bright red and shimmering gold rose into the sky for the first time. He felt his pride glowing and lighting up his chest, a content sigh escaping him. This day shall bring light to all who suffer at the hands of the monarchies and corrupt capitalists. The mark of a new era. The crowds cheered around him. He touched the scar in the shape of a sickle around his eye and stared straight at the flag. He will help the world succeed. He will help countless generations in their time of need to achieve ultimate equity.

The flag waved as the area around it became a building. He stood with Ukraine and Georgia with the two leaders, the demand to keep from involuntary union laid out between them. One craved autonomization, the concentration of power to Communist Russia itself rather than the greater good of the rest of the participants. The other desired worldwide unity and the working class' want to rule themselves throughout all countries, and have separate but equal status. A heated battle ensued, whether the want for power, or global achievement, became more important. In the end, the first, wanting to preserve the righteous image, backed down, and created the union which gave him his name. On the thirtieth of December, 1922, he became known as the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics.

As he turned to Ukraine, he saw the other's bright smile turned to a pained, disgusted scowl. He saw Ukraine clutch at the door frame, his eyes dull and weak. He heard his leader whisper to him about the power he would gain if he continued, and the great achievement he would have if he successfully achieved full access and complete autonomization. His second leader, who proposed a much more fair acquisition of unity and people's autonomy, faded to the background and disappeared. The want for power, and the now only leader pushing him to gain this power, made him force his way into Ukraine's home. He felt conflicted, almost saddened, but he pressed forward. Gaining power for his great society would pay off in the end. Everything will turn out just fine in the end.

Ukraine's screams behind him became the end of a fit of laughter next to him. He chuckled himself and sipped on his bottle, leaning back as the men around him all socialized and had their fill of drinks and food. He felt conflicted with himself, staring down at the bottle as he felt the split within his chest, the itch of tension and pain squashing itself down beneath the sense of pride and power he felt. He tried to listen in on the conversations, but he found he couldn't do anything to ignore it. Nothing could satisfy him. He only found one solution to the constant pain he felt within himself. He found that listening to his leader, following his leader to gain more power. Power which drowned out the pain. Power which built up his pride. Power he learned to crave.

The voice of his leader grew deeper, smoother, tougher. The men in front of him turned to two, the first with freezing scarlet eyes and fine golden hair hidden beneath an eagle-emblemed cap, the second with side-parted black hair and piercing blue eyes with an eagle pendant and a band of scarlet. The one who spoke, the one with the eyes of scarlet, had a grandiose presentation of himself and a slick, convincing allure. Both men wished for a peaceful reassurance, and a friendly gesture. The pull to grasp at more power lured him to draw his sacred lines upon papers and take half of their collective gains.

The paper in front of him, instead of landing onto the table as intended, fell and crumpled to the ground in front of him as he stepped into the streets of the enemy's city. He looked down at the soldiers who spread out and swarmed the roads, and took over its target. He grinned as he walked through the city, the domination of the biggest enemy in the world beneath his boot made him feel unstoppable. He single-handedly took down the one the other Capitalists couldn't dream of doing on their own.

He stared down at the paper, and they turned to stacks upon his desk. His country bled money he didn't have. He lost business. He had no leverage in trade. His military campaigns failed at every turn. The spread of his beliefs came to a stop which he could not advance. He kept up as much as he could, but the will of his people began to fade, just as his did in himself. He could feel the turmoil from within himself every waking moment. He tried to reconcile the one who took away the true meaning of his state, but nothing amounted to anything. He crumbled to nothing, useless, and without anything to stand on. He felt himself falling apart, torn, and-

He gasped and fell back, the thick glass walls suddenly appearing back in front of him. He pressed himself against the wall, eyes wide and hands shaking. He panted and clutched at the chains around his wrist, watching the man behind the glass grin at him. The one in front of him began to speak.

"Hello, Soviet Union."

"Who are you? What have you done to me? Where am I!?" He tried to stand up, but the chains somehow kept him down.

"No need to act so frantic." The man rested both hands upon the Earth at the top of his cane. "Just helping you readjust is all. We had to make sure you didn't throw up on the floors, or pass out the moment it activated."

"The moment  _what_  activated!?" He slapped his hand against the glass as he knelt upon the floor. "What have you done to me!?"

"You must calm down, Soviet. We don't want you getting a stroke like your leaders." The other grinned and took his hand away from the button. "Although, that scream of pain needs to get fixed. We can rectify that through training. But oh, excuse me, where are my manners? I am Doctor John Patrick Mayer, the lead Historian of this premises." The glass slowly retracted into the ceiling, letting Soviet step into the interior of the circle. "Why don't I show you around?"

Soviet pressed himself back against the wall. "You just did something in my head, why would I ever trust you?"

"Because, I want you to live in a perpetual state of euphoria. I can make your head see everything you ever wanted for you and your country, in exchange for you showing us your history for the public." Mayer clicked his cane against the floor. "You will have a protective Historian, Richard Adam Gumilyov." He gestured to the first man on his right side, who stood with a golden emblem that read Россия in cursive pinned to his jacket. "He knows much about you, and would love to hear and see about your ventures."

"Pleasure to finally meet you, sir." Gumilyov bowed to him, a bright smile on his face. "I wish to help you with anything you need."

"And this is Doctor Lucio B. Cerletti." Mayer gestured to his left to the other man. "He is the one who developed the machine which lets us display your memories in real time."

"Apologies for the painful introduction. It always hurts the first time." Cerletti nodded in greeting. The doctor walked right up to him and leaned down, whipping out a key and taking off the cuffs around his wrists and neck. He rubbed at his sore neck, the skin there irritated and burning uncomfortably.

"Why am I here? What is all of this?" He watched Cerletti walk back to the other two, then Mayer break off to make his way right up to him.

"You have become an unofficial country." Mayer clicked his cane against the floor, and that same pain ripped at his head, yet didn't feel as bad at all; only like an itching he couldn't scratch.

His sight morphed, and he felt himself dying. He coughed up blood, curling into a ball and clutching at his stomach with pain shooting up his spine. He felt another cough crawling up his throat, but stopped just before it made it all the way up.

He panted and tried to gain his composition, blinking the tears out of his vision and looking up as Mayer continued to speak.

"When you died, you merely fell from office. You've been relocated here, to the Museum of the World History Embodiments." Mayer gestured around him. "This is your exhibit. The powerful Communist. The fallen world superpower. USSR. Soviet." Mayer leaned down to him as he tried to catch his breath. "This will be your new home."

"You treat me like a prisoner," Soviet snapped. "You have shocked me, left me in a glass and concrete cage, and kept me in chains."

"It's only temporary, Soviet." Mayer stood back up. "We still have to get you all comfortable, then fix you all up nice and pretty like."

"You mean treating me like an inmate, or like an animal in a zoo?" Soviet crossed his arms. "That is temporary?"

"Of course it is. You are an important person. Just like all the rest of your colleagues." Mayer held his hand to Soviet.

Soviet glared down at the offered hand, then to his eyes. "So, what am I to do now?"

"Have a tour of the facility." Mayer still held out his hand, keeping up that charming smile. "We want you to be acquainted with the place you now live in."

Soviet narrowed his eyes at Mayer one last time, gripping onto the hand offered to him and hoisting himself up, internally smirking when he saw Mayer wince at the strength of his hand. "Fine. I will follow you."

Mayer grinned and pulled his hand away, then turned around and gestured Soviet to follow. "This way, sir. I'm sure you'll love the facility. We care a lot about your enjoyment and safety."

Soviet resisted the urge to roll his eyes. The man sounds like a Capitalist trying to sell him a room at some sort of fancy hotel - or maybe retirement home. "You put me in chains the moment I got here. How can I trust anything you say?"

"We will try and make it up to you. We want to give you comfort and enjoyment."

The wall in front of them slid open, and they found themselves in a grand hall with arched ceilings, almost like a cathedral. The hall expanded in either direction with rooms lining the walls, from above the first floor, to the top, filled with people stalking and pacing uncomfortably back and forth, lounging upon furniture, pressing against the glass and staring around, or even standing unnaturally still in a stiff pose with a strained expression. As he stepped out of the room along with everyone else, the room behind them slammed shut, and shot upward, then settled into a space high above them, the rooms shifting around to accommodate. He looked back toward the Historian in front of him, the heads of the others turning to him, and the eyes watching him as he walked away, almost with a look of pity. He tried not to pay attention as Mayer gestured around and spoke about different features, looking for any exits, any signs, any doors, but he saw nothing. He saw  _nothing_. The windows had a frosted sheen on them, and they had an unnatural, bright white color about them. Is he underground? Is this Hell?

They walked through a place that he could only describe as a supermall. Everything from furniture, to clothing stores, to grocery stores, to food courts, to hardware stores, to technology stores, to repair shops, the list goes on. It felt like he sat in some sort of underground city. Throughout the hallways, and the main rooms he went through, he never saw a single exit sign. This has to be some kind of elaborate joke. This has to be the work of that bitch, America.

Then how did he hear Nazi?

"-And then, we have the Services Wing."

Soviet looked to the side and saw doors with "SERVICES" written in bright gold, bold letters above them. Just below that, red words which read "Authorized Personnel Only" squished just below it. He saw a few flashes of a dull white flickering from below the door, but pretended not to notice. Something didn't feel right at all here. The city plan made the space completely independent from any outside influence, the eerie, almost hospital-like lighting, and the unnerving movement of the people in their rooms. He couldn't ignore this. He had to get out of here.

The Historian and the others led him back to his cell, which now looked fully furnished with carpet, a door to a bathroom with a full shower and bath, a bed, a small kitchen, and anything else he needed for his own personal small apartment. He even had a few personal items in his cage.

"We do so apologize for your painful first hour here. We finished furnishing your room while you were gone, however. I hope it reminds you of home."

Soviet looked back at Mayer and crossed his arms. "And I can leave whenever I want?"

"As long as it isn't during business hours, or when curfew begins." Mayer gave a bright smile.

Soviet narrowed his eyes at him. "... Right. And, what kinds of people come during business hours?"

"The general public, of course." Mayer gestured Soviet to walk back into his room. "Anyone and everyone will be able to observe you and your life. Isn't that wonderful?"

"You mean people can see when I have those... flashbacks?"

"Of course. Would you like me to demonstrate?" Mayer rested both his hands on the golden Earth, his room flying up, then came down another.

The door opened to reveal Third Reich, the Nazi himself, lounging upon his couch and reading a book of some sort. He glanced up for a second, a dangerous shine in his eyes, but he didn't make a sound in reaction. Soviet and the other three stepped inside, and Mayer gestured toward the little map in the top right corner of the placard that mirrored Soviet's own, all except for the information upon it, the map, and the flag.

"Go on." Mayer gestured to the little map. "Push the map."

Soviet looked over at Mayer, then at Third, who stood up with cold scarlet eyes. He stared straight back at Soviet, clutching at the book as the furniture and rooms suddenly slid away to that same blank concrete.

"Well? Go on,  _Soviet_. Push the damn button," Third snapped. "I don't want to be waiting all day. It's my day off."

Soviet looked down, then pushed the button. He saw Third wince and heard him grunt in pain, then the scene around them changed.

People scrambled around the city as everyone tried to grasp at any last piece of food they could. They stole baskets, killed any livestock in sight, and each and every one looked on the verge of starving to death. Nazi stood in the middle of it all, his heart breaking at the suffering of the people of his father's country. He had to do something about this. He had to help his people.

He heard his new leader speak highly of everything they could do to help the people. He heard whispers of a society where Germany would become the empire it was meant to be. How the people who ruined it, who brought this country down, would perish under his boot.

He rose to power with his leader's long, powerful speeches, and his grand plans for bringing Germany back together. His leader fed him ideas about how he needed to cleanse the country, to slowly bring to light the unworthy and the untrustworthy. His leader claimed the superiority of an Aryan society, one which - by scientific fact - made them all better than the rest of the world.

He gained all power over the state, and he became the Third Reich on the thirtieth of January, 1933.

He made laws with his leader one by one after the enabling of all power in the very ending days of February, isolating the untrustworthy and the useless, and keeping them isolated. He motivated the people of his country to rise up, and to take back what they rightfully deserved. They took down any and every person who could not fit in the Aryan definition. No homosexuals, no gypsies, no prostitutes, no people of color, no communists, no socialists, and finally, no people of Jewish faith. The perfect Aryan society.

He wanted to tell his leader no. He wanted to protect all his people. All his people deserved a chance. Not all of them deserved to die. His people needed help, not pain. But, he knew if he didn't follow along, he might lose his chance to help the rest of his people. He had to bite his tongue, and stand by as his leader did what he felt helped the country in the best way possible. Only a few months into the first year he became the Third Reich, his leader ordered for the building of the first concentration camp in Dachau. His leader ordered it to send the communists, and the socialists, and the Reichsbanner. Of course, he didn't believe communism belonged anywhere near his country, so he let it slide for now. The existence of communists in his state meant he could not function, and his people would fall to chaos. For political prisoners.

Third listened to his leader as he spoke of the ways he could reunite the people of German heritage. His leader wished to take back Austria and Czechoslovakia. He wished to do the best for all his people, even if they resided in different countries. He could do the best for all his people. His leader boasted about how they could take all of Europe, then all of the East, and finally, the world. He talked about finally taking all the power for themselves, and they had the intuition to do it. If they could establish the relations of the other fascist states, such as Italy and Japan, then they could possibly take everything for themselves.

His leader looked up to Italy, the first fascist state in Europe. He thought that having Italy as a model for a new system in Germany drastically improved Germany's chances for success. Unlike the other states of the time, however, his leader wanted complete scientific and military power. He developed war strategies, researched military weapons, and built up an army, finally officially violating the disgusting 'treaty' for the good of his people.

He took down countries within weeks, days, and even hours. He destroyed every opposition, and tore down the morale of other countries. He couldn't get too carried away just yet, however. He needs to buy more time for himself and gain some potential allies.

He approached one of the two most intimidating countries in the world. He called for ten years of nonaggression with his leader. All the while, his leader told him of how he could get more power, and purify his country. He could finally have a perfect country free from the disgust his predecessor created in this place. He nearly had the United Kingdom under his grasp. He just needed a few more attacks, and-

He got a call from Japan. Japan bombed the sleeping giant of the west. Japan. Just brought. The United  _fucking_ States of  _god damn_ America into the war. He threw his papers to the floor and screamed at the desk, kicking it over and reeling his fist back, punching a hole in the wall next to him. The god damn mother fucking fuck!

He snagged his phone from the floor and growled out an order to his leader. He needed to win this damn war. If that means declaring war as a sign of friendship, then so be it. Italy can't do anything, Japan didn't attack Soviet, and UK just couldn't stop being an annoying little fuck! Damnit!

He had to take over Europe if it was the last thing he does!

Everything crumbled around him. Soldiers surrounded his underground bunker. He sat in the middle, unable to move, unable to think, unable to do anything but listen to the guns and the explosions and the screams from outside. He stared straight at his leader, who had a gun held to his head, giving him one last nod.

He held his own gun to his head, and-

Third gasped and stumbled to his knees, clutching at the sides of his head as he pressed his forehead to the cold concrete floor in front of them.

Soviet stared at his former rival as the men chuckled amongst themselves below him.

"A three-dimensional render of every memory." Mayer rested both his hands on the globe cane. "Resurfaced, and shown to everyone in the room, with perfect clarity."

Soviet watched Third curl into a ball from the lasting pain in his head, his nails digging into his scalp to the point of making it bleed. "How come he is in pain? Does the pain not stop after the memory is finished like it did for me?"

Mayer shook his head. "No. Unfortunately, he has been compromising himself, so he feels pain much more frequently afterward."

Third eventually recovered and staggered to his feet, still cradling his head as he looked at Soviet with hazy, glaring eyes.

"There.  _Happy_  now?" Third pressed a hand against the glass, small speckles of blood spattering across the once clean surface. "You  _happy_ with what you saw?"

Soviet didn't say anything to him, staring straight at Third the entire time. "Can he not leave his enclosure either?"

"No, he can. He can. I doubt you would want him to exit his own right now, though. He's rather aggressive with newcomers. Most likely even more so for yourself, since you were the one to take him down in the first place." Mayer turned back to him. "Would you like to see anything else, or do you want to retreat back to your room?"

"My room is just fine, thank you." Soviet watched Third as they all retreated out of the room, and Third only glared back, his cold eyes sharpened at him.

The moment they stepped out of the room, it shot up toward the highest point and settled into a space, then the one right next to it separated from the wall and moved down, the door sliding open a moment later. He stepped in and watched as Mayer and the other two stood just outside the door, Mayer giving him a bright grin.

"I look forward to having you in our little community, Soviet." He nodded at Soviet as the door closed in front of him, then the room moved up and settled back into its space.

Soviet looked back at his sofa, staring at it for a few seconds before finally collapsing onto it. What just happened? Why was he in this... this... museum? Why didn't he die? Why did he-

"If you're thinking of escaping, no one has ever found the way," Third's voice cut in. "Not even the oldest know a way out, and if they do, they're not giving it up for anything."

Soviet sighed and leaned back against his sofa. "Why don't we go get something to eat? I'm starving."

"I just told you there is no way out, and the first thing out of your mouth is 'you want to go on a date, my old enemy'!? What is  _wrong_  with you!?"

Soviet sighed. "What are you, daft? I'm asking if you want to grab something to eat so we can discuss."

"Discuss  _what_!?"

"A plan, you deficient cow. I doubt you want to stay here and suffer, and I can guarantee you want to escape to the real world." Soviet stood up and walked over to the wall he heard Third speaking from. "I want to discuss escaping."

"What's your plan, then?"

"I will tell you if you go with me."

A long stretch of silence ensued, then Third finally let out an annoyed huff. "Fine. You want to meet? We'll meet."

"Good. I will see you when we get down." He walked toward the door, and the room began shifting before settling on the floor. The moment he stood right next to the door, the door slid open for him, and he walked out onto the polished marble floors. He turned around and saw his room shooting up toward its space, then Third stepping out of his own before his room did the same. Third glared straight at him, his arms crossed as he stared at him.

"So?" Third snapped. "Where are you taking me?"

He hummed in thought and walked toward the direction of the cafeteria. "I'm not exactly sure yet."

Third narrowed his eyes at Soviet. "This is a trap, isn't it?"

Soviet blinked and frowned. "What? No, this isn't a trap. Nothing like you did to me all those years ago."

"Oh, Mister Righteous over here. Yeah, sure." Third rolled his eyes and walked next to him, staring down at the floor.

"Do you have any suggestions?" Soviet looked back over at Third.

Third made a face at him. "How are you so calm about this?"

"I'm not a true country anymore. I need to make as many allies as possible if I want to get out of here." He looked back at Third. "Not that you would understand."

Third growled. "Shut the hell up."

Soviet grinned. "I think I would rather speak. Now, before you blow your top off, let's get back to business."

Third narrowed his eyes at Soviet. "I already told you. There's no kind of exit in existence. No one has found anything."

"Third, there has to be an exit. How in the world would all the rest of the public get in here?"

"Don't you get it?" Third ran a hand down his face with a sigh. "They aren't the public. They're specifically chosen people from outside the facility. They're transported here somehow without their knowledge."

"Then how do you think the items in the mall got here? They can't have farms and factories in here, too."

"Yeah but-" Third cut himself off, slowly closing his mouth. "... You have a point."

"You see what I'm saying?" Soviet sighed and leaned back. "There has to be someone who can-"

"Hello there!?" a figure yelled out from behind, walking to the two countries. "Ah, you there!"

Third sighed and ran a hand down his face. "Mein Gott..."

Soviet arched a brow and looked behind them. "And, who are-"

The man gasped and pressed a hand to his chest, feigning offense. "You- you don't know who I am!? Well, let me tell you, beautiful," he sang as he took hold of Soviet's jaw, coaxing him closer so their lips had a few mere centimeters between them. "I am the greatest empire to ever live. The Roman Empire."

Soviet shoved himself away from Rome and brushed himself off. "I would prefer you not to touch me."

Third shook his head and looked off to the side. "Möge Gott meiner Seele gnädig sein..."

He bellowed out a laugh and turned to Third. "I don't understand anything you just said, little boy," his sneered, "but I prefer  _strong_  men. Unlike yourself."

Third growled and curled his hands into fists, digging his fingers into his palms. "I am no  _child_. I am the empire which nearly took  _all_  of Europe. My ancestors had  _no problem_  defeating you, and I could have snapped your successor of my time into  _tiny little pieces_."

Soviet sighed and leaned back against the wall, seeing no point in interfering when Third decided to engage himself.

The empire's bright smile faded into a thin line, his eyes blank as he grabbed Third by the front of his shirt and pinned him to the wall. "Say that to me one more time, and I will make sure I snap that little neck of yours into a million pieces,  _boy_."

Third gave a cheeky, smug little grin. "Careful now, we have Historians around. I would  _hate it_  for you to lose your chance of freedom if it just so happens a Historian sees you hurt one of your  _closest colleagues_. I mean, you don't want to become a wax figure for the rest of your  _life_ , do you?"

Rome chuckled and shook his head, keeping his grip on his shirt as he leaned down. "Oh, I know. I think I have a much more  _fitting_ punishment for you." He slammed his lips against Third's, taking care to make sure couldn't escape.

Third screeched and squirmed, to which Soviet yanked Rome away from Third, holding one of the tallest empires up and off the floor. "I would suggest," Soviet warned low in Rome's ear, "you don't make a scene that ends up with us both in wax, hm?  _Drop the act_."

The empire grinned back at Soviet. "Oh, come now. It's just a quick punishment, nothing more. He just needed to learn his place. Besides," he traced along Soviet's arm, "I've got someone else in my sights."

Soviet scoffed and simply dropped Rome to the floor. "Go bite a pillow with Greece."

Third still stood against the wall, rubbing at his lips and cringing. "He tastes like fish and wine," he whined.

Soviet rolled his eyes and grabbed Third's arm, continuing down the hallway. "You complain too much."

Rome scrambled to his feet and speed-walked back up to them. "Hey, I'm not done with you.

Soviet sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Go back to Greece, выродок."

Third yanked his arm from Soviet's grip, stomping next to Soviet like a toddler having a temper tantrum. "I don't complain," he grumbled.

"I don't know where he is. If you help me find him, I  _might_  be inclined to help you men." Rome walked on Soviet's other side.

"Oh, so I'm a man now!? I thought I was a little boy!" Third threw his arms in the air in exasperation.

Soviet sighed and facepalmed. "We are not going to help you find Greece. You can find him yourself."

Rome sighed and shook his head. "Hush, Third, the adults are talking. I'm talking to these two," he sang, gesturing to Soviet and another figure walking up.

Soviet and Third turned to the figure, finding someone with dark skin and flowing royal blue clothing, standing in front of them with a bright green eye, and a dark wine red.

"You called, sir?" he asked, an added hint of a royal African accent when he spoke.

Rome grinned and walked up. "Oh, yes. Will you help me? I promise there'll be a reward for-"

"Absolutely disgusting!" Third shoved Rome to the side. "You can't be serious!"

Soviet pulled Third away before he could do anything else. "Now is not the time," he snapped. "We have to find a way out of here, and we don't know if either of them have any answers."

The new one chuckled and shook his head, gripping onto his staff and tapping it against the ground. "I do not believe you can do that for me, Rome. You have far too much pride in yourself."

Rome rolled his eyes. "I am no such thing. I can do anything for you as a reward." He walked closer. "I will let you-"

"Stop this disgusting nonsense!" Third covered his mouth and hacked, like he might puke at any second. "I think I'm going to be sick."

" _Third_." Soviet smacked the back of Third's head, making him yelp.

"I will not do it for free, and I will not fulfill your request." The new one walked toward Soviet. "You do not have the strength to swallow your own pride." He turned to Soviet and Third. "Greetings, you must be new to these lands. I am the Songhai Empire."

Rome scoffed. "Fine, I will just convince Greece. Whenever I can find him, anyway." He slid up to Songhai's side. "Could you be a dear and help me?"

Songhai turned back to Rome, still calm as ever as he rested his hands upon his staff. "I believe you have the ability to find him for yourself. You know where Greece likes to retreat to, do you not?"

Third and Soviet looked between each other, then back to Rome and Songhai.

Rome shrugged. "I suppose so." He brushed himself off with a sigh. "Oh well, I suppose the new arrivals don't want to find their exit. Farewell, Songhai." He turned heel and walked back from the way they came.

Soviet immediately shot after Rome, Third scrambling after him as Songhai chuckled and walked in the other direction. "I apologize, I think I missed what you said. You didn't happen to mention an  _exit_ , did you?"

Rome shrugged, a smirk still dancing on his lips. "I do apologize, but you won't be getting anything from me. You wouldn't help me, so I refuse to help you." He fluttered his fingers, then shot off in a different direction.

Soviet swore and sprinted after him, easily catching up because of his impressively high stature and long legs. "What do you mean? You knew about an exit the entire time, and you didn't tell us because  _why_?" He gripped Rome's clothing to hold him in place.

Third tried to catch up to them, but didn't speed up fast enough, and found himself panting and leaning against the wall to catch his breath a while down the hallway.

Rome chuckled and looked back at him. "My, you're a stubborn one." He shrugged. "I won't tell you unless you give me something I want." He turned around and rested a hand on his chest. "And, I want something sweet." He slid his arms around Soviet's waist and pulled him closer.

Soviet bristled and stood straight. "Get off of me, and I  _may_  be inclined to give it to you."

A smug grin stretched over Rome's lips.  "I didn't think you would actually consider it. Give me what I want, and I'll give you the exit."

He schooled his expression to one of a careful neutral. "Just tell me what you want already, pillow biter."

Rome slid his hand just under Soviet's trench coat. "I want to take you back to my room. Enjoy ourselves. I've missed having someone as strong and fit as you to have fun with."

Soviet exhaled slowly, keeping his face as neutral as he could. "Is there anything  _else_ I can do for you to give me the directions?"

Rome hummed and tapped his lips in thought. "I suppose I do. Why don't we go somewhere more...  _private_ to discuss it?" He gripped Soviet's wrist and yanked him toward an empty room in a secluded corner, completely out of sight of everyone else.

Soviet did his best to appear calm and collected, subtly looking for alternate exits and possible avenues of escape should he need them. "And what are we doing in here, exactly?"

Rome arched a brow with a grin. "Oh, pardon me. I didn't know you enjoyed people watching when you are enjoying yourself."

"I thought I told you," he started, stepping closer and looming over the smaller, making himself appear as intimidating as possible by using the light above them and the tilt of his head to keep his face in shadow, his fiery gold eyes the only thing illuminated upon his face, "I wouldn't be subjecting myself to sexual  _favors_." He gripped the front of Rome's toga and pulled him into the air. "I will not tolerate anyone using me as though I am a toy, and I do not  _appreciate_ the disrespect you have just put on my name."

Rome simply chuckled and stared straight back at Soviet. "You know I only jest. I wish to discuss something with you."

Soviet reset his jaw, then simply unclenched his hand, letting Rome fall to the ground. "Then what is it?"

Rome grunted as he landed, pushing himself off the floor and brushing himself off. "You could have been more elegant about it," he grumbled before turning his head back to Soviet, resetting his jaw. "I am close friends with one of the people on the waxing list. I want him safe."

"And who is this, exactly?"

Rome fixed his hair. "The Russian Empire."

Soviet stood to his full height, his expression returning to one of neutrality. Save the one who ruined his people's life? Give the one who enslaved his people a chance to stay out of a continuous mental paralyzation? He clenched his hands into fists and exhaled slowly. "That is a deal I am willing to take."

Rome nodded and walked toward the exit of the room. "I know you have a long history with him, but do understand having him around might be a rather large benefit to you."

Soviet only gave a short nod in return and walked out of the room. "Just give me his location. It will be done."

Rome chuckled. "Not until we find Greece. He knows where Russia resides, so in order to find Russia, we have to find Greece."

Soviet pinched the bridge of his nose with a sigh. "Of course. I will need to grab Thir-"

"SOVIET!!!"

He rubbed his hand down his face. "Never mind." He picked up his head as he saw Third stomping toward him. "Third, we are going to help find Greece."

Third gaped. "You can't be  _serious_! This guy's a lunatic!"

Soviet stared down at Third, which made him growl and stomp his foot.

"Fine. We'll go get Greece."

Rome grinned and clapped his hands together. "I love it when a plan comes together. Come now, boy. Let's go get some information." He grasped Third's wrist, then sprinted off, a smug smirk stuck on his face the whole way through.

Third let loose an unholy screech and tried to rip his arm from Rome the whole way there, Soviet jogging by Rome's side, completely unaffected by the ear-splitting banshee yelling. Rome seemed to take pleasure in it all as well, reveling in Third's grating screams and screeches.

"Unhand me already, damnit!" Third yanked and pulled at Rome's arm, acting like a child wanting to stay at a party and not leave.

Soviet only jogged next to them, even as Third screamed at him to help him. Eventually, Rome grew tired of his ears becoming more deaf than before and dropped him to the ground, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms.

Third huffed and brushed himself off. "That's better."

"Even the older countries find you childish." Soviet fixed his trench coat collar.

Third scowled over at Soviet.

Rome shook his head and began running again, Soviet easily keeping in pace, but Third again struggling to even keep the same pace. Soviet looked back at him and decided to take pity - or attempt to embarrass him more - by hoisting him up and throwing him over his shoulder.

"This is a terribly compromising position."

"Would you prefer I let you run?"

Third stayed silent.

They soon came upon Greece, who settled into his room of a brilliant carved marble and scrolls of all kinds, lounging on his bed and reading through one of his scrolls. Without any warning, Rome burst through the door with a bright grin, causing Greece to jolt and look up.

"I finally found you!"

"Oh, I apologize. I didn't mean to frighten you." He rolled his scroll back up. "What brings you-"

Soviet pushed through the door as well, causing Greece to squeak and go silent, staring up at Rome for some kind of reassurance, but too scared to ask for any. He finally just turned toward Soviet, trying to sound less nervous than he actually felt.

"Hello," he started slowly.

Soviet nodded in greeting, plucking Third off his shoulder and dropping him to the floor.

"So violent," Third muttered, standing up and crossing his arms.

Rome pranced over to Greece and swooped him off the bed, squeezing him close and kissing him everywhere he could. "You frightened me quite a lot. I couldn't find you."

Greece flushed and hid his face in Rome's chest. "There's other people here," he tried, his voice getting softer and softer the more nervous he became.

Third snickered and leaned into Soviet's ear. "This is the great Ancient Greece?" he whispered.

Soviet smacked the back of Third's head. "Respect," he shot back.

"Mein Gott, fine."

Rome scoffed and waved Greece off. "Why should I care? They've got nothing on me." He nuzzled into Greece's neck, kissing all along the skin there.

Greece made a weak little noise. "Rome, please." His voice came out barely above a whisper.

Soviet stood next to an awkwardly shifting Third, looking off into a different direction.

Rome - much to the surprise of everyone - rested Greece back down on the bed, kissing the top of his forehead one last time, then settled down next to him. "Alright, alright. We can do this later." He made sure not to sit too close or kiss him in excess, grinning up at Third and Soviet. "Come, have a seat. Do you care for a drink?"

Soviet glanced around before settling down in a chair in front of the bed. "Sure..."

Third rolled his eyes. "Of course you want a drink."

Soviet smacked the back of Third's head, making him grunt in pain and rub it while scowling at Soviet.

Rome laughed and passed over a bottle. "I'm sure you love the hard drinks, don't you? Why don't I get you some vodka? The Russian Empire loves that one."

Soviet plucked the bottle from Rome's hand, ignoring the last comment as he downed some of it, the tingling on his tongue the most welcoming thing he had in years.

"So... do you two know what the 'Services' wing is?" Greece hid a bit behind Rome, holding onto his hand as some sort of protection.

Third, of course, flipped out. Not unlike every other encounter so far. "We are  _not_  going to the Services Wing! That's suicide!"

"You've already done that once, I thought you might jump at the chance to do it again?" Soviet took another sip of his drink.

Third growled and tried to punch Soviet's jaw, but Soviet caught his wrist before he could get far.

"I would appreciate you not trying to piss me off again. I beat you once, and I can most  _certainly_  beat you again."

"Enough! You two bicker like little children!" Rome shouted, holding Greece close behind him. "We have to get to the Services Wing if we want to find him. The exit won't be hard to find from there."

"That, or you're just trying to sacrifice us to get yourself fr-"

Another smack to the back of Third's head, this one a lot louder than before.

"Stop doing that, damnit!"

"Only if you stop making a fool of yourself at the end of World War Two. Babies escape their punishments."

Third growled. "Shut up before I make World War Two look like a fucking _tea party_."

"What are you, a British fan now? Didn't know you were a pansy pillowbiter, too." He took another sip of his drink.

"Says the openly Abweichung fuck."

"Sorry, princess, that only happens in your wet dreams. You only wish you could shove that dick up someone's ass, but you ended up with twenty up yours and begged for more." He swirled his bottle. "You let your leader shove his half intact dick in there too with all the others. You got that one a lot. Even got his dogs in there with him. Got dicks up your ass more times than British baby's got people making up his country."

"You better shut up or-"

"Enough, both of you!" Rome squeezed Greece close.

Soviet took another sip with a grin. "My apologies, please continue."

Rome narrowed his eyes at Soviet, but Greece continued behind him anyway. "Russia is in a wax holding room in the Services Wing. We're hoping we can get him before he's waxed and put back in his room. It... doesn't look too good. I think he might've been waxed already."

"What!?" Rome snapped his attention back toward Greece. "No no no, they said next week! It can't be now, can it? No, that can't be true."

Soviet cleared his throat to get everyone's attention. "Why are we getting Russia, exactly?"

Rome and Greece shifted and said nothing.

Third hid his face in his hands. "Oh no. Oh god no. You can't be serious. That can't be-"

Soviet held up his hand to smack the back of his head, but Third shut himself up before he could. Soviet smirked, then put his hand back down. "I would prefer it if I knew what I was doing. After all, I've only been here a few hours."

"Just get him back. That's your only concern." Rome sat up a touch straighter. "We will give you the instructions to get there."

Soviet gave him a deadpan stare. "I can't do that if I have no instructions. I was asking how to get in there."

Third scoffed. "That's almost a guaranteed loss. There are guards constantly around those doors. The only time there isn't is when-"

"Curfew starts. Yes." Greece hid his face in Rome's shoulder. "Which means we... we have to go out after curfew."

Everyone shifted uncomfortably, but Soviet just looked confused.

"Apologies, but I think I'm missing something. What happens if someone is caught after curfew?"

"Why don't you ask your little companion over there?" Rome leaned back and let Greece cuddle into his side as Third hung his head.

"... Right. Well, what do we have to do to not have whatever happened to this... boy."

"Call me a boy one more time," Third growled.

Rome hummed and tapped his chin. "We should be able to get in. There is a ten second window where nothing is observing the door to the Services door."

"Ten?" Third threw up his hands. "Might as well make it zero! How are we going to get up there  _before_  the ten seconds, and still get through!?"

"Why so resistant?" Soviet arched a brow down at him. "I thought you wanted to leave. Are you  _afraid_?"

Third bristled.

"Ah, so it is." Soviet chuckled and shook his head. "I should have expected that from you."

Before either of them could speak any further, Rome cut in. "You two bicker like some old friends. Is it possible to get to the point so we can, oh I don't know,  _get out of here_?"

"We wait until it's curfew, which should only be a few hours." Greece rested his hands in his lap. "I have a plan."

Soviet gestured him to continue. "Go on."

Greece gave a hesitant smile. "Well, for starters, I have been creating little secret holes in the wall around the Services Wing. They're in places just outside of the fields of the camera's vision. I've also asked for help with Japan to create a distraction, and buy Italy time to stop the cameras. Everyone has their positions, and you're both coming with us."

"I think I might have a better idea." Soviet rested his hands on his knee. "It will of course have the same people an jobs as yours, but a bit different in nature. The Historians will obviously know if we have left our beds after curfew, right? They will notice the empty beds and our approach to the Services Wing dangerously close to curfew. We need to get Italy some footage to work with." Soviet leaned back. "I know this seems like a pain, but we need to act less suspicious."

"Just spit out what you plan already," Third grumbled.

"We need to make the cameras believe we're asleep. We record the footage of one night with none of us near the Services Wing, and any hallway leading from our rooms to the wing, record ourselves doing whatever we like in our own rooms, then going to bed early. We would also need to get things which could fit into our beds and look like we're sleeping within them." Soviet looked around. "Does that make sense? I know it looks long, but we don't want to be caught before we even start." He looked back toward Rome and Greece. "Even if it's a little painful for the both of you."

Greece and Rome looked toward each other, then back to Soviet. Rome spoke for the both of them. "If it gets us a better chance of getting out of here, then so be it."

Soviet nodded and smiled. "Great. Could you get the information to Italy and Japan? I want to make sure there are no gaps of information. Italy does know how to manipulate camera footage, correct?"

"He does." Rome nodded. "That won't be a problem."

"I'll tell Italy and Japan," Greece muttered, huddling himself into Rome's side.

"Good." Soviet looked back over at Third. "You're not going to brag and blow our cover, are you?"

Third scoffed. "You speak to me like I'm a five year old. I know what to do when keeping plans secret. You should know first hand."

Soviet stared at him a moment more, then turned back to Rome and Greece. Great. Everyone knows what they're doing, yes?"

Rome and Greece both nodded, and Third simply shrugged with a grin.

"Good." Soviet stood up and made his way toward the door, Third following in tow. "We will reconvene after a brief recess. I haven't eaten since I arrived here, and I'm starving. We can plan and coordinate whenever I'm finished eating." With that, he walked out, and Third went after him.

Soviet and Third made it to the mall cafeteria, and Soviet ordered stacks and stacks of blini. Third stayed silent next to him, simply sipping on a cup of coffee and staring forward. Soviet scarfed down pancake after pancake, devouring everything in sight.

"Well, that went well surprisingly well." Third took another sip of his coffee.

Soviet made a humming sound in answer as he swallowed down another pancake. "Indeed. I didn't think we would find a way to do this so fast. Interesting how things play out like this." He stole a sip of Third's coffee, making Third glare back at him.

"Disgusting. You just got your Communist infection in my cup." Third picked up his drink and sipped on it again.

"Whatever do you mean? You're just as authoritarian as I am." Soviet grinned at him as he shoved another pancake into his mouth.

Third scoffed and shook his head. "Disgusting."

He swallowed down the rest of the pancake and took a breath. "Sure. Call it whatever you like." He put his fork down on the empty plate.

"I wasn't talking about just your Communism. You need to learn to eat properly."

"No need to." Soviet grinned.

Third rolled his eyes and looked away, sipping on his drink in silence.

.

The time came, and everyone stood in their positions.

Everyone stood in the shadows, and within the hidden compartments in the walls around the Services door. Everyone stood in sight of two different people. Rome held the radio, waiting for the signal from Greece - who had the best shot of the Services Wing - to tell Italy to switch the cameras into the looped recorded footage for the ten seconds they needed. The people funneled out of the mall as the time approached curfew. One hour. Forty five minutes. Thirty minutes. Fifteen. Ten. Five. Two.

One.

Bong.

Bong.

Bong.

Bong.

Bong.

Bong.

Bong.

Bong.

Bong.

Bong.

Ten strikes of the bell. Ten o'clock in the evening. Curfew. Everything led up to these moments. Everything beyond this point meant life or death. If they made any move wrong, or they made one single mistake, that meant the end for everyone. The loss of a single opportunity. Everything beyond this point meant either their escape, or their permanent residence. No future laid in front of them but to stand as wax, nothing to do but stand and look pretty for anyone who walked by. Stand as an example to never disobey the Historians in any way, shape or form.

They had to get this right.

They stood in place for two hours waiting for their time. The Historians guarding the door walked back and forth, speaking to each other like no one stood around, talking about disgusting topics, and laughing at the inmates of this prison like nothing. They even talked about how they could probably convince some of them to give them...  _favors_  if they promised to take them outside the walls.

Disgusting.

Soviet could see Third from the corner of his eye clawing at the wall in his shadowy corner, straining not to react and scream at the Historians. He felt the same way, as did Rome from what he could see.

Finally, after the end of the second hour, the clock rang twelve times. As the clock rang, the people turned their backs and walked off to the side.

Greece flipped the signal, and Rome spoke into the radio. Italy spoke back, and while the clock still rang, they bolted to the door and kicked it open. Third slammed it closed, just as the last ring of the bell chimed.

They all panted and pressed back against the wall, the adrenaline shaking them as they laid in place.

"We... we did it." Third picked his head up. "We did it!" He laughed and threw his hands into the air. "We're halfway out! Oh my God!"

Soviet smacked his hand over Third's mouth. "Shut your mouth, or it will all be a waste." He nodded back toward the door.

Third rolled his eyes and pulled down Soviet's hand, pressing it down against the cold concrete floor. "They can't hear us. I should know." Third pushed himself up, leaving Soviet to rub his hand. "I think I know where they might be holding Russia, but it's been a while. We might have to walk around for a while."

Soviet stood up on shaky legs and helped up Rome, who held a panting Greece in his arms. "Do you two have any other ideas?"

"Hey!"

Rome shook his head as he cuddled the shaking Greece close to his chest, hushing him and running a hand down the little one's back to comfort him. "No. I think letting Third lead the way might be our best bet as of now. We can ask Russia where he believes the book is once we unwax him."

Soviet looked back at Third, who had his arms crossed. "The consensus is to let you lead the way, so feel free to lead the way."

Third threw a careless salute to him and started down the hallway. "Yes sir."

Soviet followed after him with Rome and Greece following behind. He stared up into the darkness of the ceiling, then to either side at the numbered doors out into the distance. Some of them flashed with a bright white, followed by the agonized screams of the person inside. He did his best not to react as he looked forward, watching as Third steered them around. Around the middle of the hallway on the left side, it opened up to reveal a thin metal walkway with the floors sinking down to the abyss, platforms with robotic parts and machines on some of them, with a large metal plate set on a pedestal. Soviet stared at that a moment longer before turning away and watching Third come to a stop in front of a small door near the end of the hallway.

"This is where they kept me. I think this might be it." He looked back at Soviet. "Would you like to do the honors?"

Soviet narrowed his eyes at Third, but said nothing. He looked at the numbered metal door, then kicked it open. There in the middle stood Russia with burning gold and blinding white eyes, his face stuck in a threatening military resting position, his arms pinned behind his back, and uncomfortably standing in place.

"Russia!"

Little Greece sprinted forward and threw his arms around Russia. Russia's eyes followed him wherever he went, then looked up at Rome, who walked over and hugged him from above Greece.

"He's breathing!" Greece pulled back and smiled brightly at Russia. "He's alive!"

Soviet shut the door behind him and turned his head over to a console of buttons. He stepped toward it. He clenched his hand into a fist and stood right in front of the machine.

"I thought we wouldn't see you ever again!" Greece cried. "We were so scared we lost you."

Rome pulled back and smiled at Russia. "We just have to find a way to get you unwaxed."

Soviet growled as he kicked the machine off, and he heard a gasp in the corner. Russia coughed and coughed, shaking as he tried to catch his breath, tears pricking at his eyes.

"It's done, Rome." Soviet looked over at Greece and Rome on the other side of the room.

"How did you do it?" Rome scrambled to Russia's side to help him up.

"I just had to find his control panel." He walked over to Third, who stared at the others. "It turns out no one who was turned to wax was actually turned into wax. It was just the machines."

"The machines are the ones doing all the mind control?"

"Yes, they are. You know when people can come into your room and see your memories with you? It's the same thing, just from another location." He walked over to Russia and knelt down in front of him. "You're welcome."

Russia scoffed and attempted to picked himself up, his legs shaking and his face red from coughing.

Rome knelt down to him. "Hey, hey, don't strain yourself, alright? Let me help you up." He looped Russia's arm around his shoulders and stepped up, helping Russia do the same.

Russia leaned against him, panting and gripping him as Greece helped him up on the other side. "I'm fine. Just need a bit to breathe."

Soviet turned away and shook his head, muttering something under his breath as he walked back over to Third.

"Alright, let's just sit you down." Greece and Russia helped him to the console once controlling him, setting him down so he could catch his breath.

Russia leaned back against the wall, panting and squeezing his eyes shut. "Damn. I couldn't- couldn't breathe for so long."

"But, we could hear you breathing. You mean you thought you were suffocating for all that time?" Greece took hold of Russia's hand. "Oh... Oh no, Russia..."

"God damn." Rome rested a hand on Russia's shoulder. "You think you'll be alright? Do you need help? God, I can't imagine going through that for as long as some of the others have."

Russia let through a low sound and laid his head back further. "My lungs fucking burn..."

"I'm so sorry, Russia." Greece hugged Russia and cuddled into his side.

Rome leaned against Russia's other side, patting his hand and leaning against the wall with Russia. "Hey, it will be okay. Just take as long as you need."

Russia let through a weak chuckle, pulling both Greece and Rome close. "Never thought... I would see... either of you... again."

Soviet sighed and walked back over to them. "We don't have that much time. If we don't get going now, then we won't be able to do anything. They'll catch us before we even start."

"Do you have a plan, Russia?" Rome looked back at Russia.

He shook his head as Greece buried his face in Russia's chest, to which Russia wrapped his arm around him. "No."

Soviet sighed and ran a hand down his face. "I got Russia out. Can you just tell me where the exit is, then we can work it out from there? We don't have much time at all."

Third couldn't keep looking. He slapped a hand over his lips, making muffled hacking sounds like he might throw up.

"From what I know, the exit is in some kind of book. It's in a library those idiots keep hidden from us. That has to be where our exit is." He leaned back against Russia, then pressed a quick kiss to Russia's temple, to which Russia kissed his temple back, then pressed his head back against the wall.

"A book? You mean to tell me there's a book that we all somehow crawl through to get out of here?" Soviet bit down on his thumb and paced back in forth, narrowing his eyes in thought.

"Like a portal," Greece murmured. "It's like a portal. You open it, and it takes you out of here."

Third blinked. "That's... genius. I thought the exit would be a door, or a hallway or something. Not a portal. But, I guess I should have expected that from these people."

Soviet hummed in thought. "Do you know what book?"

Rome picked up his head. "I think it was called... The Unions? I'm not entirely sure. It was something along those lines." He looked back at Russia and laid his head against Russia's.

Russia kissed his cheek with a sigh as he traced along Greece's side, who hugged Russia close to himself. Third tried not to throw up, squeezing his eyes shut and covering his ears.

Soviet tried to run through the different books he saw in the library. "The Unions... The Unions... Do you know the author?"

Rome tapped his lips. "A book which was by... K. Bar. B. May."

Soviet frowned. "I don't think I've ever heard of that. I didn't see that anywhere..."

"It's a mixture of two names. The book has two authors. I'm not sure which names it is, however." He looked back up at Russia.

Russia dragged his fingers down Rome's back as Soviet paced back and forth, making low humming sounds to himself. Greece just hugged Russia and held Rome's unoccupied hand while Third curled into a ball, rocking back and forth.

Rome leaned into Russia's touch with a low hum, then pulled back to look at Russia. "The two of us really did miss you. We almost thought you wouldn't come back."

Russia hummed and grinned against Rome's neck, nibbling on it and tugging back, taking the skin of his neck with him, then letting it snap back into place. "You would just  _love_ that, wouldn't you?"

Greece made a sound as Russia squeezed his side.

Rome chuckled and leaned back, pushing his face away. "How rude of you. Why would you ever suggest something like that?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." He glided his hand back down Rome's spine, tracing every single line he found.

Third pounded his fist against the ground, sounding like he might throw up at any second, while Soviet just kept pacing and frowning to himself.

Rome grinned and leaned back, biting down on Russia's neck and tugging his skin. "You know payback is a bitch, don't you? I mean, I wouldn't want to be caught with a bit of karma like you are."

He made a low sound and pinned Rome to his side while he picked up Greece with his other hand and deposited him in Rome's lap. "I suppose karma's a bitch, but I can take my chances."

"Can you three please be  _serious_!? We might die if we don't get this right, and you're over here chewing on each other's..." he made another hacking sound and covered his mouth.

Rome narrowed his eyes at Third as he held little Greece close. "Oh hush, you child. It's not like you could ever accept that part of yourself anyway. You're too afraid because of what you're meant to be,  _aren't_  you?"

Russia hushed Rome and kissed his cheek. "He is right. We might die if we don't do this right."

Third took a deep breath. "Thank you!"

Rome let out an annoyed sigh before setting Greece back in Russia's lap, then stood up and made his way over to Soviet. "I think we should find the library first then think of a plan. We need to know what we are getting into first."

Soviet nodded and picked his head up. "Do you know what section the book resided in? Or was it in a blocked off section?"

Greece crawled into Russia's hold, to which Russia held him as Third caught his breath.

"Thank God. I thought I was going to have to watch you fuck," he panted out.

Rome tried his best to ignore him as he conversed with Soviet. "It might be in a completely different library in general. If not, it might be within a hidden section of the library. Though, I'm not sure where that would even be."

Soviet bit down on his thumb and narrowed his eyes at the wall. "There has to be a restricted section somewhere. Or maybe, fake wall." He shook his head. "This whole place is just one painful mind game."

Greece grabbed for Rome's hand and held onto it as Russia hugged him close.

Rome squeezed his hand back as a sort of comforting motion. Both for Greece, and for himself. "We have to find something. There has to be some sort of clue, or hint, or-" he cut himself off, his eyes lighting up- "something you said before. The control panel kept Russia trapped, correct?"

"Correct." Soviet looked back at Rome. "What are you inferring?"

"Well, if there's a control panel to keep them in control. Why can't there be controlling who goes in and out of the secret passages?" Rome looked back as Greece squeezed his hand back while Russia reached up and ran his fingers along the back of the same hand.

Soviet narrowed his eyes and hummed in thought. "You mean like a control panel for the hidden passages and corridors throughout the facility? Where would we find that?"

"Somewhere down this hallway, I would assume." Third picked himself up, trying not to look over at Rome and the other two. "It has to be here somewhere."

"Most likely where the most protection is. Only thing is, if they catch us now, they might do something much worse than a waxing. Especially to Russia and Third."

"It's a risk we'll have to take." Soviet sighed. " We need a map of the place. Is there a way we can at least obtain that?"

"Already covered." Russia took his hand away from Rome and stood up, resting Greece on his feet next to him. "I've been up and down these hallways so many times, I might as well be a tour guide."

Soviet sighed slowly, unsure of what to say. Third just grinned.

"This is great! You can take us around!" Third threw his hands into the air. "Amazing!"

"Quiet, you child!" Rome snapped. "Do you want us to all die!?" He narrowed his eyes back at Third, to which he returned. "I don't, and I sure as hell think you don't. If we want to get out of here as fast as possible, we need to be silent. Got it?"

Third went to say something, but Soviet cut him off before he could. "Then care to lead the way?"

Russia threw a careless salute. "Keep close, won't you? Pay attention to every order I give you." He turned to Soviet, staring straight into his eyes. "Especially you."

Soviet's eye twitched as he tried not to scream at the other.

Greece looked over at Rome as Third eagerly ran out of the room. "Are you sure you're alright?"

Rome sighed as he gripped Russia and Greece's hands as tightly as he could. "Yeah."

Soviet walked out after Third as Russia led Rome and Greece out, Greece giving Rome a small smile.

"We'll get out of here. We're so close. And if this doesn't work out, we proved to everyone that we can unwax. We just have to get them to go with us." Greece nuzzled Rome's cheek.

Russia took his hand away with one last kiss to the back of it, then walked in front of the group.

Rome kept on holding onto Greece's hand, continuing to walk in step with Russia despite the growing dread he felt. Greece squeezed it to reassure Rome as Russia led them through the halls, making turn after turn, around round columns and down stairs, through tunnels and under archways. Soviet walked on the opposite side of Third, who looked like he made a mental map of everything he saw.

Rome stared out at all of the rooms, and one in particular caught his eye. He saw people completely immobile, following his movements with terrified eyes as they stood in their unnatural poses with painful expressions. He swallowed hard at the sight, unable to look away, just as Third couldn't help but do the same.

"Rome?" Greece squeezed his hand again. "Rome, are you okay?"

Rome snapped out of his trance and looked back at Greece. "I'm just fine. I'll be alright."

They walked through numerous hallways before finally ending up in front of a massive door that led to a large round room, and in the middle sat a book just idly sitting there, facing another grand archway which read "Museum of World History" at the top.

This had to be it. This had to be where the exit was.

Rome stood stiff as he scanned the room, swallowing hard and rubbing his arm so to not fall into a state of panic. Greece did what he could to help as well, but nothing seemed to work.

"We're here," Soviet called.

Third laughed. He just burst out laughing. He ran straight for the book and grabbed it. "It's here. It's fucking here. This is it! Oh my God... This is it. This is..." Third slammed his fist against Soviet's chest, causing him to grunt from the sudden force and stumble back a step. "You fucking did it!"

Soviet rubbed his chest as Third danced around the room, laughing out loud.

Russia walked back over to Rome and Greece, taking hold of Rome's unoccupied hand and kissing it. "Are you alright? You look distressed."

"Something doesn't add up here," he muttered, staring around the unusually empty room. "Something is off about this place. This doesn't match up. This is a trap."

Russia brushed the back of his fingers down Rome's cheek. "My love, don't worry. It'll be alright. If we do get caught, we have a second shot. We'll have a second shot."

Greece kissed Rome's hand and cuddled into his side. "It'll be alright."

Soviet grabbed the book from Third's hand and looked at the cover. He turned it around in the light, trying to find a name, but he couldn't. "Where...?"

"How can you be so sure?" Rome looked back toward Russia. "There wasn't a single guard around the halls. The room was left unguarded. Something is wrong here. There has to be something we're missing here. I don't have a good feeling about this. They'll catch us here, that's their plan. I can feel it."

"If we make it out, they can't ever catch us." He kissed Rome's forehead. "You said it yourself when they locked you and Greece in here all those years ago. Do you remember the promise they gave you?"

"If you can make it out, you deserve to stay out," Greece whispered, hugging Rome close.

"Exactly. If we make it out, we deserve to stay out." Russia gave him a soft smile.

"Give me the goddamn book, I want to be the first one out of this hellhole!" Third tried to reach for the book, but Soviet held it just out of reach.

"Shush! This could be a trap, you imbecile!" Soviet smacked the back of Third's head.

" _Again_  with the head! What is with you and smacking the back of heads!?"

Rome took a deep breath and nodded, holding Greece close to himself as he tried to get a hold of himself. "You're right. I just... I don't want to lose either of you. Not again."

"I know." Russia pulled Rome into a side hug. "I know. We have a chance to get out of here. All we have to do is find the book, then we're out of here. Okay?"

Rome looked down at the floor. "Only if you promise to stay as far as you can from harm's way." He took hold of Greece's hand. "Both of you."

Russia nodded and squeezed the other two close to himself. "We can do that."

Greece kissed Rome's cheek as Soviet and Third shouted over who got the book.

"It's not a fucking trap! It's the book we need! Come on, just let me fucking open it!"

"No! This could most definitely be a trap! This is the Historians we're talking about!"

Rome snatched the book from both their hands and pulled it close to his chest. "I believe neither of you should have the privilege of holding the mystery book as of now. We could possibly be in a life or death situation, and fighting amongst each other will most definitely  _not_  solve the problem. We need some kind of way to test whether or not this is the real book."

"And  _how_  are you going to do that?" Third cocked his hips to one side and crossed his arms. "Huh? How?"

" _Third_ ," Soviet hissed. "Now is not the time. You could at least help."

Russia and Greece tried to look through the room to find any other books, but they only found wall, wall, and more wall.

Rome looked down at the cover of the book and turned it around a few times. "There is no title anywhere, Soviet. It is completely blank."

"I know. I was trying to think of a way to find the book, or tell if this is the one." Soviet looked around the room, then back at the book.

"Just open the book already and get it over with." Third threw his hands in the air. "Make Russia do it or something. He's already been waxed once."

Greece looked furious and opened his mouth to shout something, but Russia stopped him from saying anything by kissing his cheek and lips, instantly making him relax.

Rome stood high above Third as he walked over. He held up his hand, and backhanded Third across the face, making Third stumble back a step and catch himself. "I believe you may  need to re-evaluate yourself right now,  _boy_."

Third reset his jaw and stood at his full height, clenching his hands into fists. "What for? Russia's already been waxed. Why not risk him?"

"You may have been waxed once before, but I know for a fact you have not ever been waxed for a hundred years like Russia has. You do not have a clue what it means to go through that."

Third narrowed his eyes at him. "It was only sixty."

"Watch your  _tone_ , boy, or I-"

Soviet pushed the two away from each other while still gripping the book. "Now is not the time."

Russia wrapped his arms around Rome and pulled him away. "Don't let him get to you."

Greece did the same, holding his hands. "It's okay."

"This boy knows nothing of manhood. He knows not how to carry himself without the twisted guidance of his ancestors, let  _alone_ in times of peril." Rome broke away from Russia's arms and squared his shoulders. "You fell because you could not keep yourself stable. You fell because you didn't have the strength to-"

"You say that like you didn't fall yourself!" He thrust his finger into Rome's chest. "You couldn't keep anything stable, and your successors could never,  _ever_ , be as strong as you were. Hell, you weren't as strong as my successors were! We beat you every time you tried to cross us! You were nothing but a-"

Soviet yanked Third away by the back of his shirt, choking him for a brief second. "Shut. Up."

Russia coaxed Rome backward as Greece went to stand in front of him, giving him soft, wide eyes while playing with his hands.

Rome ignored both of them. "At least my successor got the upper hand and betrayed you. He left you to rot. And Japan?" He laughed, his voice stained with malice. "If you had the nerve and the thought to keep Japan in check, you would have  won the war. It's a real shame history repeats itself. Your ancestor shouldn't have honored that peace treaty. You should have followed what your ancestor decided."

"Japan did nothing I asked of him! He never attacked Soviet, and he brought in America unnecessarily!" He stomped against the ground. "I refuse to follow any unfair treaty!"

Soviet tightened Third's tie to keep him from talking, his golden eyes burning. "What. Did I just say?"

"Fuck- you-" he choked out.

Greece pulled Rome down into a kiss before he could say anything else, Russia holding him back as well. Rome stiffened and tried to get out of it at first, but, after a few moments, his shoulders began to ease, and his fists relaxed.

Soviet pinned Third to his chest. "You are going to stop, or you will be the last to ever be in this hellhole, you understand me?"

Third struggled and choked, trying to kick at Soviet, but unable to do so.

" _Do_  you?"

After a few moments of Third's face growing red, he finally nodded. He gasped for air as Soviet let go of him, coughing while Greece and Russia tended to Rome.

"Are you alright now?" Greece whispered, brushing his thumbs over Rome's cheeks.

Rome narrowed his eyes over at Third. "Just... just fine."

Third glared up at Soviet. "Just open the damn book already."

Soviet shook his head. "It could be dangerous."

"Then how do we test it? We obviously need to do something about it!"

Soviet held the book just out of Third's reach. "We are not opening the book."

"Then what  _do_  we do?"

Greece hesitated before speaking up. "I'll do it," he interjected, pulling away from Rome and Russia.

Rome shot up straight. "Greece, I don't think I that is the best idea right now." He tried to go after Greece, but Russia held him back. " You shouldn't put your life on the line for something like this. We can find someone else. We can-"

"I have to, Rome. We'll all be stuck here if we don't just resolve it." He walked over to Soviet and held out his hands, to which Soviet hesitated before putting the book down into them. "If that kills me, then so be it. I would rather you be safe than be stuck here so close to the exit."

Russia squeezed Rome close. "I hope you know what you're doing, Greece."

Soviet and Third watched the exchange in silence, unsure of what to do or say.

Rome struggled and squirmed against Russia. "Russia, I can't let this happen! He can't be put in danger! Take your hands off me and let me find someone else! Let me-"

Greece walked back over to them and pressed a soft kiss to Rome's lips. "It's okay. It's okay, Rome. Please, let me do this."

Russia stared down at Greece, then squeezed his eyes shut and turned his head away. "Please don't hurt yourself."

Rome shook his head and turned and put his face into Russia's chest. "Please do it quickly. I don't want to watch."

Greece squeezed Rome's hand one last time, then pulled away and stood where the book sat on the table in the middle of the room. He placed the book down, then grabbed the hard cover. He gave everyone one last smile, then with a moment's hesitation, slowly pulled the front cover back and around.

Tendrils of light snapped around his neck, wrists, ankles, and waist. He tried not to scream as the light hoisted him into the air, a painful hissing and the smell of burning flesh filling the air. He let out a whimper, then a low groan, then a scream. He screamed and screamed, unable to move. Just before it could get any worse, he flew across the room and slammed against the wall with a sickening  _CRACK!!!_  His small body crumpled to the ground, his skin hissing and smoking.

Soviet and Third stared down at him in silence, mouths agape, and eyes trained on him. Rome watched Greece's little body with misty, glassy eyes. Russia squeezed Rome back to his chest and squeezed his eyes shut.

_Clap. Clap. Clap._

Russia snapped his head behind him and stood in front of Rome, growling as Soviet and Third got into fighting positions as well.

There stood Mayer, slowly clapping with his brass globe staff in his arm as Cerletti stood at his side. "Well done. Well  _done_."

Greece tried to pick himself up, his arms shaking as his skin continued to smoke and crackle.

"I never would have thought you would make it this far. Well done."

"Let us go, you sick bastard!" Third tried to run at Mayer, but Mayer twisted his globe, causing Third to collapse on the ground, clutching at his head and screaming in pain.

"I'm afraid I can't do that. You're much too high of a priority to be let go so easily."

Rome struggled to break free from Russia's hands, his expression contorting into a snarl as he barked out insults in his long lost native tongue.

Mayer only laughed. "I'm surprised you still remember Latin."

Greece tried to push himself up more, Soviet kneeling by his side and helping him to his feet.

"But oh. Oh, no no. None of that. That's not in character of you, Rome. Let's get you in character."

Rome's body started moving on its own. He stepped away from Russia's arms as Russia tried to keep holding tight, but his arms easily fell away when Mayer pushed another button.

"Rome!" Russia cried, his arms shaking as he tried to move them. "Rome!"

"No! No! Please! Russia!" He fought to try and do something. He fought to bring his arms up, or stop his legs, but nothing ever happened. He could only move his head back to look at Russia and Mayer, who stood grinning with both his hands on the brass globe. It almost looked... crazed. Like that of a rabid dog.

Russia tried to step forward, but Mayer easily kept him in place. "Ah ah ah, that's not historically accurate. Neither of you were even close to walking around in the same time period. We don't want to  _confuse_  people." Mayer made Rome walk further away, then turn toward Greece. "Let's make things more historically accurate."

Greece looked up with wide eyes, trying to curl into Soviet. "No. No, please. Rome, I love you. I love you."

"Greece! Russia! Please, Mayer, I beg of you! Stop this nonsense!" He continued to struggle as he stepped back, approaching little Greece.

Greece stared up at Rome with wide, terrified eyes as he curled into Soviet. "I love you, Rome. I love you. I love you so much. I-"

Greece yelped as one of Rome's arms lifted him up, then pinned him to the wall. Russia shouted for Mayer to stop, for Rome to stop,  _everything_  to stop, but Mayer only laughed.

Soviet tried to intervene, but he froze in place as soon as he stood up. "Let then go!"

"And why should I? Historical accuracy is key."

"We are not just countries!"

"Oh, but you are." Mayer walked forward. "You are all nothing but representations of the past."

Greece whimpered and squeezed his eyes shut as Rome's other hand lifted up. "I love you, Rome. I love you. I love you."

Rome struggled and squeezed his eyes shut, then stared up into Greece's fearful, misty eyes. "I beg of you, Mayer. Stop this. I refuse to lay a hand on him."

"I think we both know that's a lie." Mayer grinned and pressed another button, and Rome's arm threw a punch to Greece's stomach. Rome flinched as though it happened to himself.

Greece whimpered and coughed, unable to breathe as tears streamed down his face. He tried to speak, but he couldn't, not a single wisp of air reaching his lungs.

"Stop this!" Russia pulled and yanked at his body to get it to move. "Please! Stop this!"

"Now this is much more accurate to history. Don't you think?"

"I never wanted to hurt him!" he screamed, his cries more desperate. "I beg of you, stop this! I refuse to hurt him! I refuse to-"

"Of course you do. You need power. You need to take down the one who threatens that power."

Greece screamed as Rome's fist punched his temple, then threw him to the ground. Rome's body pinned Greece to the ground, then his fists raised and smacked his head back and forth one time before stopping.

"I love you. I love you. I love you," Greece sobbed through the blood now invading his mouth.

The sight of blood made Rome... crave the sight of more. He needed more. No. He didn't. Not from him. No.

Russia screamed for Rome and Greece, his rage and helplessness building as his tears streamed down his face.

"You need the power. You crave every second of it. You  _need_  it."

"I never needed it!" He forced down any lust for blood he might have, and squeezed his eyes shut. "Not from him!"

"You  _do_ need it."

Agony flooded his senses as his mind split. He transported back to all those years ago, the adrenaline of taking over Greece grew overwhelming. He took every chance he got to gain the power. He took Greece down easily. He needed it.

His mind flickered between the two times. Did he want to take down Greece? Did he love him? Did he want to hurt him? Did he want to stop?

"I love you." Greece reached up. "I  **ha** ve you. I  **hate**  you with all my heart. I love you **with all my being**. I love you. I  **hate you until the day you die!** "

Rome shook his head, confusing himself from the two different voices. "No. No, you don't hate me. They are making you say it! What's past is past, and we don't need that!!"

He wanted to make Greece bleed.

He wanted to watch him writhe in pain, watch him flinch at the sound of a sharpening knife, watch him cry at the smallest cut. He wanted to bleed him dry, let him drip to the floor, only for him to start it all again when he revived the next morning. He wanted to feel the warm red liquid splatter onto his hand, against his cheek, down his chest.

He  _needed_  it.

Greece sobbed under him, reaching out his hand the best he could while he lay pinned on the floor. He tried to grasp Rome's wrist. "Please, I love you. I  **hate**  you for everything I am. I  **want you dead!** I love you."

Russia's screams flicked in and out of existence, becoming quieter and quieter each time.

No. No, he didn't need it. He didn't need to hear him scream. He needed to hear him laugh, watch him smile, feel him curl into his chest in search of safety. He needed to stop this. He needed to stop, but-

Greece's voice died out as Rome punched Greece's head and face over and over and over again. His bloody face dripped and splattered onto his hands, his eyes nearly invisible to him.

The moment his body went limp, his mind snapped back to the present.

Russia's sobbing echoed through the room, as did Mayer's amused chuckling. Greece's body lay unmoving below him, trickling blood onto Rome's hands and clothes.

Rome watched Greece's little body in silence. He inched his head down to look at his hands. His bloody, stained,  _disgusting_  hands. His vision grew blurry, but the dark maroon color still remained in his vision. He couldn't get away from it. He couldn't stop seeing it. He couldn't.

"Did you enjoy that?" Mayer stood next to him, but before Rome could lunge at him, his body froze in place. "Did you enjoy the feeling of the warm blood on your hands? Did you revel in the pained screams you heard? Did you want it to continue?"

Picked his head up and stared toward the curved wall in front of him. "Don't let me see the light of day again. Let me die on this spot. Let me rot here."

"You didn't answer my question." Mayer rested a hand on the back of Rome's neck.

"Don't touch him!" Russia screamed.

Rome squeezed his eyes shut as tears slid down his cheeks. "Not a single moment."

"You needed to be reminded of your historical purpose." Mayer patted his back. "You need to remember your satisfaction in his enslavement."

Greece's face slowly slid back to its original form, then pieced itself into position. He looked like he just fell asleep...

"You need to remember the pain you enjoyed so thoroughly."

Russia called out to Rome, but his voice suddenly stopped in the middle of calling his name.

"You need to remember. You need to remember your hatred for him. You need to remember." Mayer gripped his upper arms as that black, burning feeling swirled in his chest, his head pounding against the back of his eyes. "You need to remember."

Terror tried to overpower the ever growing hatred. "No! I refuse to accept it! I refuse to revert! I will not submit to the delight! I beg of you, let me pretend for the people!" He finally let out a cry. "I beg of you," he sobbed out,  finally giving up his struggling. "I beg of you."

Greece's eyes fluttered open, and he reached up and brushed his fingers along his cheeks. He leaned up and whispered into his ear. "It's okay now, Rome. It's okay. I love you, that's all that matters. I love you. I love you so much. Never forget that."

Rome pressed his forehead to Greece's. "I never wanted to hurt him."

Mayer barked out a laugh. "You never  _wanted_  to? You took down almost the entirety of Europe by yourself so you could rule it. You wanted to take over everything. Getting Greece under your rule meant you could have all the knowledge you needed to teach your people and become the most intelligent society around. You took Greece's life to boost your own. That's what you did."

Greece choked as Rome's hand grasped his neck and squeezed, his face growing red and his eyes tearing up from lack of oxygen. "I love you."

Rome shook his head. "I wanted nothing to do with the grasp for power! I wanted nothing my leaders wanted! I wanted to rule and do what's best for my people!" His desperate struggling fired up once again, and just like last time, it did nothing.

"You needed the rush of power. You needed to take down that little country so you could expand to every corner of the world." Mayer wiped his tears away and smoothed his hands down his arms. "You wanted everything in Europe. Everything in the world."

Rome's hand squeezed tighter, and Greece's eyes bulged out of his skull. He choked and squirmed, his arms pinned by Rome's knees and unable to do anything. He tried giving Rome a smile through his pain, his face changing deeper colors.

Rome stared desperately back at Greece. "I'm sorry, my love. I'm so sorry. Please. Please forgive me for this. I'm sorry." he whispered, his tears silent as his hand gripped and enclosed Greece's neck .

Greece tried to choke out something, and all that came out sounded like just a few noises, but the implication of what he said rang through perfectly. "K- frk- v-"

"Does he forgive you for taking him down?" Mayer chuckled and squeezed his shoulders. "How sweet. You just want to keep going, don't you? Watch him die by your hands?"

"I beg of you. I beg of you. Let me stop his suffering. I beg of you."

Mayer hummed. "Let me think..."

He kept on losing his grip, letting Greece breathe once in a while, then it tightened back up again. Greece could only get out a quick half-gasp before choking again. He rested a hand on Rome's thigh and brushed his fingers against it, trying to say that everything was okay, and that they would get through this. He tilted his lips up into a small smile, and finally just stopped squirming, giving up on struggling against the inevitable.

"I think this is all you right now. You wanted this all along. You wanted him under you, powerless, unable to fight back. You wanted him dead, so you made him submit to you to do it."

Just before Greece's heart stopped beating completely, Rome's hands pulled away, and Greece went limp, unconscious, but breathing.

Rome curled into Greece's chest, hugging him close and curling into him. Greece's bloodstained clothes coated his face even more, and the images of Greece's blood on his own neck haunted him. He could never forgive himself.

"I believe that's enough fun for today." Mayer walked back toward the door they came from, and everyone followed, including Greece's whose body looked almost like a rag doll forced to walk, his head and arms swaying as his legs took jerky steps, as well as Third, who still kept clutching at his head as it seared with pain.

Russia walked next to Rome, but couldn't reach out to hold him. "I love you. I'm sorry for what this  _bastard_  made you do. It's not your fault. You're not at fault."

Rome picked up his head and looked back over at Rome. "It is my fault. It is. If I had not laid a hand on him, and if I had not tried to hurt him, then he wouldn't be unconscious right now. If I hadn't hurt him-"

"You know you can't do that, Rome." Russia gave him a kiss in the air. "You know you couldn't resist the mind control. It's not your fault. It's not your fault. Don't blame yourself."

Rome hung his head and stared at the ground. "I can't. I hurt the one I love. I can never forgive myself." He swallowed hard. "I'm afraid. I'm afraid this the end."

"I know you are. We'll get through this, alright? We can get through this. You, me,  _and_  Greece. All of us." Russia gave him a smile.

"Greece is too injured to move on his own.  I don't want to leave him, Russia." He looked back up at  Russia.

"I know. We'll find a way." He gave him a reassuring smile. "We'll find something, I promise."

He nodded and watched Russia's glistening gold and white eyes. "What if we can't do anything? What if you have to leave him? What if-"

"We'll find something. I love you, Rome. We'll find something."

They all stopped in front of some large table in the middle of the room, and the only floor around them that didn't fall to a dark abyss only looked like metal grates which circles around the table.

Mayer turned around to the group, cameras focusing down on them from all directions so the displays lit up with any angle they needed, which no doubt displayed on the TVs of all the other rooms in the museum.

"Which one of you formulated this plan? Who led this operation? Hm? I would like to know."

No one said anything.

"You all have one chance to save yourselves from an eternity of waxing." Mayer took a threatening step forward. "Who. Set. This up?"

Rome took a step forward. "I-"

"Rome, no, please." Russia tried to stop him, but a machine snapped around him and hoisted him into the air, smacking him down against the table. "No! Please, it wasn't him! Please!"

"There's no point in lying."

Rome coughed from the wind knocked out of him. He looked back at Russia and gave him a smile. "It's alright. I love you two. So much."

"It wasn't him! Please!"

Metal cuffs snapped around Rome's wrists, ankles, neck, legs, arms, chest, and waist, keeping him down as some long metal arm appeared above him.

"Please, don't do this! Please! It wasn't him!"

"Then who was it, hm?" Mayer turned to Russia. "Because it obviously wasn't you, and if it wasn't Rome or Greece, then who was it? You have two other options."

Russia looked back at Soviet and Third, who both stared back at him. He looked between Rome and the other two, but he couldn't bring himself to say. "I love you, Rome. I love you."

Rome gave Russia a reassuring smile. He reached out his hand to him and held up his pinkie, pointer finger, and thumb while keeping down his ring and middle finger. The sign for 'I love you.'

Electricity fired through the cuffs, and he let out a pained scream. The bright monitors around them flashed with Rome's joyful memories. Some with Rome sitting with Greece while Greece read a book, some with Russia and Greece while they talked and laughed and smiled for hours. Some of them a bit more sensual.

"You need to purge these. You need to rid yourself of this impurity."

Russia tried to move, but he couldn't, only able to watch helplessly as electricity shocked against Rome, causing little black charring marks on his skin wherever it touched, and Rome saw memories he cherished flash by, as well as everyone else in the room.

"You can't have these. You can only remember your conquest. That's all you can remember."

Rome sobbed and arched his back, screams of pain leaving him. Memory after memory flashed by, and-

"Stop!"

Everything stopped.

Soviet walked forward, his golden eyes shifting, no longer a fiery orange gold, but a soft, yellow gold.

Mayer turned back to Soviet and grinned. "Oh, what's this? Have you come to confess?"

Rome inched his head down to Soviet, no doubt in copious amounts of pain from the shocking and the tearing of memories. The machine threw Rome off, then grabbed for Soviet and hoisted him up.

"You're not confessing, are you?"

Russia bolted to Rome's side and held him close to his chest. "I'm here. I'm here, Rome. I'm here." He laced his fingers through Rome's hair. "I'm here."

Rome curled into Russia's chest, tears staining his face.

Soviet turned down to them one last time, then stared right at Mayer with his teeth bared and his fists curled. "I'm confessing," he spat.

"How wonderful. Beautiful. Someone is actually  _honest_  around here."

Soviet choked as the metal arms smacked him against the table with a  _CLANG!!!'_ "Go to  _hell_ -"

"Where do you think I come from?" Mayer grinned his maniacal, animalistic grin as he stepped up the stairs to stand level with the table, leaning down to get straight in Soviet's face. "Cerletti."

"Yes sir." Cerletti typed at the machine on the other side and a needle snaked down from above.

"Why don't we make this one public? Prove we're capable of making them all fall to their knees." Mayer flipped a remote within his hand and turned the cameras on, a few screens lighting up bright high above them on every wall. They all pointed straight at Mayer. "Ladies and gentlemen of the museum, I would like to present to you just what happens when you try to escape. You've gotten this far, but you can't even find the right exit." He signaled for Cerletti. "I want everyone to watch as we rip every memory from him. I want everyone to watch his brain melt, and his eyes bleed, and his brain drips out his nose."

The needle snaked down further, and Soviet's dread grew ever stronger, his fear building, but he kept his expression intact. He refused to give these disgusting creatures the satisfaction. It aimed straight for just his forehead, right between his eyes.

Memories slipped away. Pain wracked through his brain.

"You will never remember your name! You will forget who you are, and you will become nothing but a brain stem!"

No.

Despite the pain, Soviet fought through it to scream.

"My name is Soviet!"

"Your brain will become nothing!"

More pain shot through. He squeezed his eyes shut and continued through it.

"My name is Soviet!"

"You will forget, and then you will be nothing!"

Memories crumbled away from him. Pain stabbed and ripped them from his mind.

"My name is Soviet!"

He should know where he's from, shouldn't he? He should know why he fought his ancestor. He should know why he fought for his people.

"My name is Soviet!"

"It's unfortunate you won't remember that for very long!"

A loud banging sound next to them didn't even penetrate his train of thought. Why didn't he remember his leaders' names? Why didn't he remember his partners? Why didn't he remember what happened during... what war was it? Who was his enemy?

"Soviet!"

No other voice answered, only confused banging and screaming, barely able to cut through the invading pain. Why did he cut himself off from the world? Why did his people suffer? Why did he invest in weapons which... what did they do? Were they dangerous? Who did he make the weapons to fight against? Why did he hate people with sunglasses? Why did he send people to... to...

"Soviet!"

The screaming grew louder and increased with the pain.

How did he get here?

The never ending pain stopped.

He gasped and snapped his eyes open, his eyes burning and his head pounding against the back of them. He stared around at his surroundings. He laid on some sort of metal sheet with cuffs on his arms and legs, and something blunt and adhesive stuck to his temples. He stared right back at himself on a huge, bright display of colors. His eyes looked so bright. Why did that surprise him?

He looked down below him to see where the screaming came from. All up and down a thin, metal walkway, people swarmed some guards with prongs, and a few more stood on a platform higher above, throwing someone off of it and into the dark expanse below. One of them had freezing scarlet eyes, and something in him told him to feel a mix of pride and disgust. Why either of those? What did he do? What did the other do?

The scarlet eyes stared up at him, and over everything else in the room, screamed do him. "Soviet!"

How did he know his name?

"Soviet, we're trying to get you down! Just- Just wait a minute!"

He watched as two others, one with gold and white eyes, and two more glistening white. He feel like he should know them. Especially the gold and white. He had a burning hatred for those eyes, but he couldn't fathom why.

The cuffs suddenly released, and he only stayed up because of the adhesives on his temples.

"You stupid boy!" The gold and white smacked the back of the scarlet's heads. "Give him a platform to fall onto, damnit!"

"What the hell! Why does everyone feel the need to hit me!? I'm getting that, just hold the fuck on! I haven't read English in years, give me a break."

A few seconds later, a little platform appeared below him, and the adhesives detached, causing him to fall onto the hard metal and shoot more pain up his side. He grunted and pushed himself up as the disc below him moved over to the console of people.

"Are you alright?" The gold and white picked him up. "Do you still remember your name?"

He nodded slowly. He grunted as the gold and white crushed him in a hug, laughing with relief as the others joined in. Why were they so relieved? Did he know them personally?

"Soviet, we did it. We won. All we have to do is find the book, and we can finally get out of this hellhole!"

He bit his lip. "I don't mean to be rude, but where is 'here,' exactly?"

The grins and laughs all died in an instant.

"You... what?" The scarlet narrowed his eyes at him. "Are you kidding with us? This is a horrible time to start doing that."

He glanced to the side, unsure of how to answer. Should he just go along with the narrative, or should he actually say what's wrong? Better to be truthful than to lie and ruin your relations.

Why did that leave a bad taste in his mouth?

"My... I don't know where I am. Further, I don't know who any of you are. How did I get here? Do I know you?"

Their faces all dropped.

"You still remember your name, though, right?" The scarlet gripped his shoulders. "At least tell me that much."

"Soviet. My name is Soviet."

"Do you know where you come from?" one of the whites chimed in, hiding behind the taller one.

He tried to search his brain, but he only found darkness. He had to shake his head. "No."

"Do you remember  _anything_ else? Your full name? Where you came from? Who your enemies are? World War Two?"

He trudged through the darkness to try and find any sort of information, but nothing came to mind. "N... No."

The scarlet threw up his hands. "Great! Now we don't have anyone to to help us find this damn stupid book!"

The gold and white smacked the back of scarlet's head again. "This is no time to complain. We have to get out of here. We just killed  _Mayer_. This place'll be overrun with Historians and God  _knows_  what else!"

Soviet tried to interject, but everyone just kept arguing.

"We have nothing to go off of! For all we know, there  _is_  no exit, and they're just fooling us!"

"There  _will_  be an exit."

"And what if there isn't!? What if this is just some fucked up version of hell, or some sort of virtual reality, or-"

"Then how-" the taller white-eyed cut in- "were Greece and I captured and dropped here?"

"Look, I'm just trying to-"

Soviet tuned the screaming ones out and turned toward the other parts of the room. They talked about an exit. What kind of exit? He stared at the walls, then at the people scrambling across the thin metal railway. His eyes stopped on a little book next to a man with blood streaming from an open wound on the top of his head. Huh. Odd. Why would a book be next to him?

He skunk away from the yelling of the group behind him and approached the little book rested next to the pool of blood and the brass globe on top of a carved wooden cane. He noticed some of the words rubbed off a bit from its use, the leather worn down, but the pages still in place. He looked back at the others, then to the book, trying to decipher the letters written there. He really needed to brush up on reading English.

T... HE. The. Okay, one word down. One more.

U... NI... O... N... S. Uni... ons. Unions.

The Unions.

It must be a good book if it's this well loved.

He took it back to the still arguing group and settled down on the console, looking down at the book, then the yelling people who apparently knew him. He brushed a hand over the cover, then flipped it open. His surroundings flashed white, and something felt hot against his skin. He let out a yelp, and before he knew it, the burning stopped, and the bright white faded.

He blinked his eyes open and found himself at the end of a dark, tight hallway. He looked down at his now empty hands, then at his surroundings. He frowned and took a step forward, the sound echoing into the darkness.

He saw another flash of light behind him.

He turned around to see the littler white eyed one from before. The little one blinked, then looked up at him with a bright, beaming smile. "Soviet, you did it! You found the exit!" The small one laughed and ran into him, hugging him with tears of joy streaming down his face. "Thank you. Thank you. I told the others to get everyone else. Thank you."

Soviet knelt down and hugged him back, cradling his head and keeping him secure. "You're welcome. I'm happy to have helped you."

Some more flashes of light came from in front of them. The other white eyed, the gold and white, and the scarlet appeared in the hallway and looked around. The scarlet thrusted his fist into the air and let out a shout in another language, a grin warming his usually cold expression and laughing as he sprinted down the hallway. The other two watched Soviet, as though waiting for Soviet to do something to the one he held. In response, he pulled away from the little one, who sniffled and smiled up at him with misty eyes.

"Thank you. Thank you so much."

Soviet smiled back, taking hold of the little one's hands. "You're welcome, little one." He then pulled away and stood up, looking back to where the scarlet had shot off to. He decided to follow as the other three behind him all hugged and laughed together.

At the end of the hallway, he found a door slightly ajar, letting in a sliver of bright light. He pushed it open, and the blinding light assaulted his eyes for a moment until they adjusted. He saw the scarlet collapsed on his knees  at the edge of a beach, his arms on either side of him in the bright white sand, and staring out into the blue horizon. Soviet made his way next to him, sitting down with his legs crossed and his back straight.

The two stayed quiet for a while, simply staring into the horizon, neither speaking, neither moving. They enjoyed the view and the sounds of the rolling waves by themselves.

"I gave up finding my way out years ago," the scarlet finally spoke.

Soviet looked back over at the scarlet, who continued to stare forward.

"I gave up after they found me trying to get into the Services Wing after curfew. They..." he pulled back his sleeve to reveal a burn scar spanning up his entire arm, "they made sure I wouldn't ever do it again. They made sure to let me know the monster I am."

Soviet looked up at the hesitant, thawing scarlet eyes. Something about that change made him ease up, though he didn't know why he stayed so guarded in the first place.

"I went through pain every time I was forced to go back in time and relive my memories. I hated it. I hated every second of it, but I was too unsure of myself to try anything again. To prove I wasn't the monster my leader tried to make me into. No one believed me, so why try and change anyone's mind? Just go with it. Be as over the top as I can." He clenched the sand within his fists. "I don't have to pretend anymore. I'm going to change my name, take off all these clothes, and give myself a new identity." He looked out into the horizon. "I don't want my name to be Third or Nazi any longer."

The name pinged in Soviet's head, but he couldn't fathom why.

"I'm changing my name. I'm going to live with my people. I'll watch my successor, and help him any way I can to not become like me. Secretly, anyway."

Soviet listened to him in silence, letting him finish as he held his hands in his lap, watching the warming scarlet eyes as he locked his fingers together.

"I'm going to name myself something meaningful. I think Claudius might be a good one." He rubbed his hands together. "Crippled." He looked over at Soviet. "You're changing your name too, aren't you? You can't stay as Soviet."

Soviet thought for a moment. "Igor. Warrior of peace."

Scarlet stood up, then held his hand out to Soviet. "Claudius. A pleasure to meet you."

Soviet looked down at the hand, then shook it with his own. "Igor. The feeling is mutual."

He grinned. "Now, how do you suppose we get off this damn island?"

"There's a boat behind the building," another voice from behind cut in.

Igor and Claudius both turned around to find the white and gold, the two white eyed standing behind him.

"We can fit everyone in there no problem. We just have to get everyone on board first."

Igor and Claudius looked at each other, then smiled and stood up, walking toward the others.

"Back home we go." Claudius looked over at Igor. "Or, maybe not. Maybe we can tour the world. See what's new. Give you some new memories, yeah?"

Igor looked back behind him, then to Claudius. "Sure."

None of them noticed the pair of eyes watching them from behind the trails of blood, or the sickening, toothy grin on the crazed face it belonged to.

\---

Thank you so much for sixteen hundred hits! Thank you for the kudos and the comments and reads and the support! It really means a lot to me ♡

It's an honor to have so many people read my stuff and think it's worthy of their time. So again, thank you (for the thousandth time).

Also, if you haven't had enough of me, I have finally decided to give everyone here access to my [document ](https://docs.google.com/document/d/1FDjZ_CPBkDi-P9ulgQSPXRTeEgVtVs_saYxLAWwfWek/edit?usp=sharing)I write Country Whatevers! Some of the vignettes are missing because I wrote them directly in-website, but it has things like notes, the first version of the vignettes I write, AND some never-before-seen content!

I also have an inspirational [playlist ](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4tg74H51JsdEi5vyNEpz3z)for you to enjoy (and possibly get inspiration from), and an [Instagram ](https://www.instagram.com/just.my.art.stuffs/)where you can come hang out, talk, RP, or ask for me to edit things for you!

Again, thank you, and I hope to see you in the next episode!


	21. Sea

This one is going to be another hella long one, sorry about that. I do have some questions for all of you at the bottom should you want to take a more active role in making Country Whatevers. Also, I have a question before we begin: if I said I wanted to do a crossover fanfic with another unspecified fandom, how would you feel about it? More info will come later if enough people are interested. I promise not to make it cringey!

Without further ado, I hope you enjoy!

...

Canada scribbled something down on the parchment set in front him amidst the piles of inked and fresh pages around it, frowning as he tried to decipher everything else. From behind him, a small chirping sound rang through before a piercing cry, almost like a baby animal crying for its mother.

His head shot up. He hesitated a moment before speaking as he looked around. "Mother?"

The cries stopped, becoming soft chirping again.

He got up and went to the source of the sound. He walked around the house, peering into every corner and crevice in the house before he came to his mother's room. He hesitated a moment before pushing open the door, peeking inside and looking around. He never thought, in a million years, he might step inside. It looked different from what he expected. Beautiful, cleaned furniture, the floor free of debris and clothing, and The closet door wide open. He didn't see a point in looking around the room, and went straight for the closet. In the corner of a closet, behind another secret door and covered in quite a few pieces of draped cloth, he found a tiny black sea dragon crying out in fear of its surroundings.

"Shhh, shhh, it's okay." Canada unlocked the cage and opened the door, then held out his arms to the little dragon.

The dragon flapped its wings so it scrambled backwards, nearly exactly like a bat trying to escape an intruder.

"I won't hurt you. I promise." Canada kept his arms held out.

The tiny dragon tried to get away, curling in on itself in the very farthest corner of the cage. Right along the side of its tail, a few scratches and pieces of exposed skin, looking almost like someone had ripped out the scales from there and carved an insignia - Canada's family insignia - into the skin there.

"Oh," he whispered.

He rubbed the back of his neck as he tried to think of something, then an idea lit up his eyes. He grinned and closed the door again, then ran back toward the kitchen, looking through that morning's baked goods he bought for everyone and took hold of the plate of cookies. He lifted them up, then took them back to the small side-closet. He settled down on the floor in front of the cage and plucked of one of the cookies before he pulled open the door.

The dragon stared up at him with wide eyes, curling in on itself and panting, seconds away from a panic attack.

"No, no, it's good, see?" He broke the treat in half and ate one part, then set the other at the edge of the cage in front of the dragon before pulling away.

It looked up at him, still panting a bit as its tail swiped from side to side.

He gave it a smile, nudging the cookie forward to help encourage it. To his delight, the small serpent hesitantly slithered forwards, staring down at it before leaning down and taking a tiny bite of the cookie, then another, and another. He grinned as he grabbed a few more cookies, resting a few whole cookies inside the cage in front of it. It looked up at him, still a bit hesitant, even as he nudged the cookie  toward it as a mode of encouragement. Finally, it looked down at the pile before grabbing another cookie, chewing on it. He giggled in satisfaction and sat back, watching the little serpent scarf down its pile of cookies, then slither forward.

His smile widened as he held out his arms. "Would you like to come out now?"

The small serpent slithered forward and curled around his hand and arm, wings fluttering in content. He pulled him close to his chest, giggling as he pet down its back. It nuzzled his neck, making a small vibrating cooing sound. He sighed and leaned against the wall, curling around it. It settled into him, falling asleep almost instantly against his chest. Like they hadn't slept in months because it was too stressful. He held the little sleeping dragon, humming and mumbling to it about protecting it as he stared off into the distance.

About a week later, while Canada to the small serpent, the front door slammed open.

"Canada, are you done with all your chores yet? Because, if not-"

"I-I'm done, Mother." Canada shoved the serpent into the drawer, wincing as it made a yelp in surprise.

"You cleaned the whole house? You tended to all the animals? You wrote all the letters?" She stomped into the living room.

He nodded, nails digging into his palms. "Yes, Mother."

She narrowed her eyes at him, scanning him up and down with a stare identical to the ones she gave their servants. "What are you hiding?"

"Nothing, Mother."

"You're lying again. Don't make me have to give you salt water again for lying, you know I don't wanna do that." She took another step forward. "What are you hiding?"

"N-Nothing." He stepped back, tears welling up in his eyes.

She sighed, standing straight and grabbing a cup, gripping his wrist and pulling him to the back, where she dipped the cup into the ocean and held it in front of his face. "Don't make me do this, Canada. I don't want to make you hurt again for lying. What. Are you hiding?"

"I-I'm not hiding anything, Mama." Tears spilled over his cheeks as he tried to pull away. "Please-"

"Look at me and tell mama you're telling the truth, because right now you're just crying. What are you hiding?"

"I-I'm not hiding anything, Mama." He looked up at her, shaking his head. "Don't hurt me."

She let out a slow sigh, putting the cup down. "Okay, Canada, sweetie," she kneeled down in front of him, taking hold of his hands, "you can't be lying to mama anymore, okay? Y-"

He shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut. "Father will hurt him."

She stared at him blankly. "Who is 'him'?"

He jumped back and shook his head faster. "N-No one!"

She grabbed the cup again, forcing it in his face. "So you  _are_  lying to me." Her hand gripped tighter at his wrist. "What are you hiding? Tell me now, or else."

He shook his head and kept his lips sealed, screwing his eyes shut.

She sighed as she pinched his nose shut. "I warned you, it wasn't going to be pretty."

"No! Mama-"

She forced his jaw open, pouring the sea water down his throat. "I told you it wouldn't be pretty. But, you didn't listen. All you had to do was tell mama the truth."

He spluttered and choked, gasping for air as he tried to wrench away from her grip. To his dismay, she forced him to stay in place, dipping the cup back into the ocean.

"If you didn't lie, you w-"

She cut herself off with a blood-curdling scream, her grip falling away from Canada as she stumbled back and fell, clutching at her wrists.

"You- You  _burned_  me!"

He shied away from her, his hands curling into his shirt. "M... Mama?"

She screeched again as something bright white flashed over her wrist, only for her to swat whatever shot her out of the air and down to the ground. She brought up her foot to stomp on it, but stopped midway, glaring down at the silky black dragon.

"You were hiding the  _dragon_  from us?"

Canada snatched it up and pressed it close to his chest, shaking as he stared up at her. "I-I-"

She smacked his hands away, gripping at his wrist as she grasped the dragon's neck, making it squirm and flutter its wings as it gasped for air. " _You_  were the one feeding the dragon?"

"Leave Tih alone!" Canada tried to pull away, tried to grab her other wrist.

She gripped his wrist tighter and tighter. "You  _named_  it?" She shrieked out a cold, empty laugh. "Fine. If you want it so much," she yanked him toward the bucket of coals, the insignia's rod still sitting in it. She grabbed it, forcing both his hands onto the metal table with ropes, "then why don't you become an animal yourself?"

The realization hit Canada all at once, but, instead of screaming or crying, he just collapsed to his knees. "Yes, Mama." His voice shook just as his body did, wracked with silent sobs.

Tih made one last attempt at trying to evade her attention by biting down hard on her hand, which only made her growl and throw them to the wall before slamming down the metal rod onto Canada's palm, then doing the same to his other hand, leaving it there for a good two or three seconds on each one and even pushing down harder against his hands to make sure it stayed there. She then yanked the metal rod away and threw it back into the bucket, sighing at the hissing of his flesh and the sound of his screams. He eventually dissolved into whimpering, collapsing in on himself as he begged 'Mama' to forgive him. She didn't come back, however, choosing to leave him tied to the metal table as she went back into the house. 

Thi made their way over to him, one wing now bearing a tiny hole as they singed off the ropes, grabbing a bucket of cool, fresh water to pour on his hands and wash them clean. Then, they bandaged his hands up before curling into his chest, making a small sound.

"I-I'm sorry," he whispered, holding them close. "You got hurt because of me."

They shook their head, nuzzling his chest and looking up at him before nodding toward the ocean, a small boat docked there. They tried to nudge Canada closer, but he refused to move any further.

He shook his head. "N-No more ocean."

They nuzzled his neck, holding his arm as they looked off toward the path leading out into town.

He nodded. "We need to pack."

They shook their head, nuzzling his cheek.

He frowned. "What is it?"

They pulled him toward the coins laying on the counter, flapping their injured wings and settling onto the counter.

He nodded and stepped over to collect what he could. As soon as he got enough, he took Tih back into his arms and walked through street after street until they stood on the outskirts of town. This still insisted they kept going,  and they began walking to the next city, sand sticking to his boots. 

When they finally stopped, the sun settled down on the horizon, and the only building for miles in either direction looked like a little inn in front of a dock. The inn looked like it could fit no more than twenty people, offering just a few rooms as seen with the candles in the window.

Canada looked down at Tih. "Are you sure this is it?"

They nodded.

"If you say so." He walked up to the front door and rapped his knuckles against it.

A few moments later, a woman unlatched the door and pushed it open. "Oh, hello. Do you want a place to stay?"

Canada nodded, clinging Tih and the small bag of money he possessed.

She smiled as she leaned down and brushed a few of strands out of his eyes, giving him a warm smile as her golden eyes gave off a bright warmth like the fireplace behind her. "Alright. Would you like to stay with me?"

"Can I?" He looked up at her.

"Of course you can." She pressed a soft kiss to his forehead. "Call me Mommy, okay?"

He nodded and gave her a wide smile.

"And what do I call you, my precious little baby?" She nuzzled his nose with hers, her golden brown skin warm to the touch.

"My name is Canada." He cuddled close.

"Hello, Canada." She kissed his cheeks, gently taking hold of his hands. "What happened here?"

"Mama burned me." He mumbled, curling around his bag.

"I'm sorry, baby. You can have your dragon out. I won't hurt it." She took hold of his hands, slowly unwrapping the bandages. "Let me help you." She held his hands out with his palms up, muttering a few words before kissing the fresh wounds, his skin stitching itself up with a warm buzzing feeling until his hands felt just fine, now nothing there but the insignia.

"There. Is that better?"

He nodded, smiling wide as he moved to open the bag.

Tih looked up at her, then at Canada, snuggling into him.

She opened her arms up for the both of them, settling back down in her chair by the fireplace. "Come sit with me, and I'll read you a book while you eat, okay?"

He nodded, holding Tih tight before going to her. She pulled him to her lap, settling him against her chest and grabbing a tray full of Canada's favorite food and setting it next to him, then opening a book and starting to read to him, Tih falling asleep not too long later to her soothing voice. Canada ate until he couldn't even sit straight, smiling for the first time in... well, forever. She held him close, kissing his cheek and playing with his hair as she continued to read. He eventually fell asleep as well, smiling.

He woke up to the smell of pancakes, snuggled into a fluffy blanket and a soft bed next to Tih.

"Morning, Tih." Canada sat up with a smile.

They gave him a small smile, nuzzling his neck. He hugged them close and moved to get up. They curled around his hand, nuzzling his chest.

"I love you."

They nuzzled his neck, making a small sound.

"Are you hungry?" He brushed his thumb down their back.

They made another sound in confirmation.

"Okay." He moved your carry them out if the room. They snuggled into him, resting their head on his shoulder.

On the other side of the door, the woman from before dished out a few pancakes onto some plates, resting them on the table before turning around.

"Oh! Goodness, you scared me. Good morning, my baby." She pulled him into a hug, playing with his hair. "Would you like some breakfast?"

He nodded, giggling.

She stood back, pulling a chair out for him. "Come, come, sit. I hope you like pancakes."

He did as told, nodding and nuzzling Tih. Tih curled into Canada's hand and looked down as she set down a plate of raw fish, to which Tih hesitantly slithered up to and nibbled on.

Go"That's quite a rare dragon you have."

"Really?"

"Really. It's an Aurum Venandi. A Gold Hunter."

"What does that mean?"

"This little one," she petted along Tih's' head, making them purr and lean into her touch, "can sense treasures and the presence of magical beings. They are very expensive and highly sought out for, and usually don't try to have companions for fear of having the one closest steal their treasures. You are very lucky to have one. Not to mention have one love you to this degree."

"Oh." He nuzzled his nose. "Okay."

They gave a small purring sound, nuzzling him back.

"You seem troubled. Did you come from somewhere... not good?"

He shrugged. "Mama doesn't like dragons."

"The same mama that did this to your hands?" She traced along the scars.

He nodded and started sniffling. "She- She said it was because I lied and loved Tih."

She hushed him, playing with his hair. "It's okay now. You're okay."

He sniffled and curled close. She played with his hair and kissed his nose, holding his hands.

"Would you like something to drink? You seem very dehydrated."

He shook his head, pulling away to pull Tih close.

She ran a hand through his hair. "Please, my baby? I don't want you getting sick. I promise it won't be salt water, okay?"

"How did you know?" He pulled Tih closer.

Tih gave a small purr as they curled around him, trying to help him calm down.

"You don't ever look at the sea." She pressed a kiss to his temple. "It's okay. I promise it's not sea water. It's not salt water." She handed him a small glass of water. "Do you want me to give your dragon some to prove it?"

"Don't hurt Tih." He held them closer.

"I promise I won't." She brushed the hair out of his eyes, giving him a soft smile. "I promise I won't hurt you or Tih."

Tih purred and nuzzled his cheek, their wings running over his skin to help him calm down. To help keep him grounded. Canada didn't respond much, however, as he hid his face in Tih's scales, sniffling.

She traced along his cheekbone with her thumb. "My baby, I promise I won't hurt you. Do you want me to help you get hydrated another way? A way that doesn't involve drinking?"

He nodded, shivering.

"Are you cold too?" She brought up his shirt and placed her hands on his scarred stomach, murmuring a few words as the water from the glass flew through the air and swirled around her arms, the water phasing through his skin. When she finished, she reset his clothing and held him close. "I can get you a blanket."

He shook his head, gripping Tih tighter, to which they purred and nuzzled him, trying to help him calm down.

"Would you like me to read to you?"

"Please."

She pulled him close, walking back over to the fireplace and sitting down, where she grabbed a book and opened it, reading to him as Tih helped him relax, holding his hand with their tail and resting their wings around him like a blanket.

"Would you still like to have some pancakes while I keep reading?" She played with his hair, putting the book down for just a few moments.

He shook his head, closing his eyes.

"Would you like me to move somewhere more comfortable?" She leaned down and pressed a light kiss to the top of his head.

"I'm okay."

"Okay, baby." She held him close, going back to reading as Tih curled around Canada.

He sighed and kissed Tih's nose. They then leaned into his touch, nuzzling him back.

A few days later, while Canada played with Tih in their room, Mommy had opened Canada's door, giving them a small smile.

"Hello, my baby. I just wanted to check in on you. How are you doing?"

"I'm doing good!" He held a wooden sword in hand and paused their pretend with with Tih.

Tih jumped about, giving a small barking sound as they flapped their now repaired wings.

"Oh good." She opened the door wider and kneeled down in front of him. "We're going to have some guests over, okay? So, what I want you to do is be a silent pirate so we can have ice cream later, okay?" She nuzzled his cheek, tickling his sides. "Can you do that for me?"

He giggled and nodded, kissing her cheek.

She grinned and pressed a long, exaggerated kiss to his cheek. "I love you, my baby. Now stay safe in your shop and be a silent pirate, okay? Pirate's Code!" She gave him one last kiss before she closed the door.

"... Okay." He curled up in his bed with Tih, settling down to take a nap.

The front door opened, and... his  _mother's_  voice sreeched out.

"Okay, sea witch. I know you have a way with magic creatures. Tell me where my dragon is, or else."

Mommy's giggle rang through the hallway. "Oh, I'm sorry, but I don't react well to threats. Would you like some tea?"

"The dragon. Now."

"I'm sorry, but I can't help you." The sound of liquid being poured into a cup chorused her voice. "I haven't seen a dragon in years. But, I heard your little boy went missing."

"We are talking about the dragon. Not the boy."

"Such hostility. Are you sure you don't want a cup of tea? What about your daughter here? Would you like some tea?"

"The dragon. I'd like my dragon back," America hissed.

"Well, your dragon isn't here." Mommy stopped speaking for a moment, just before the clicking of glassware. "I'm not sure why you're so adamant that it's here."

"Then," the mother slammed her hand on the table, "tell us where we can find it!"

"Everyone passes through your inn here. I'm sure Canada and the dragon did as well."

"I'm sorry, who's Canada? Is that your child?"

"The dragon!"

"I'm sorry, but I can't help you. Now, is there something you want, or am I going to have to help you out with some assistance?"

"Miss-"

"Now now, I don't want to hear it. I don't know anything about a dragon or whatever you mean, so please leave."

America huffed. "Mother, maybe we should just leave. Look elsewhere."

She growled. "Fine." Her entire voice changed when she started talking to America, however. She had gone soft, more caring. "Come on, my princess. Let's go find your dragon."

"Yes please."

The front door soon closed behind the both of them, and the door to Canada's room opened soon after.

"Would you like some ice cream now, my baby?" Mommy asked.

"Was... Was that Mother?" He looked up at her, clinging to Tih.

She sighed and sat down in front of him. "It was, but I got rid of her. She won't bother you now. I'm here to protect you, alright?"

Tih nuzzled Canada's neck, making a small purring sound to help soothe him.

He nodded, giggling as he hugged little Tih back.

"Good." She gave him a bright smile, nuzzling his nose with hers. "Do you want some ice cream now, my handsome little pirate?"

"Yes, please!"

"Good." She stood up and held out her hand for him.

He took her hand, bouncing a bit.

"What kind of ice cream do you want, my baby?" She tapped his nose.

"Vanilla!"

She giggled and kissed his forehead. "Alright. Do you want anything on top?"

"Chocolate?"

"Alright." She set him down on one of the tables, going to grab the ice cream.

He swung his feet back and forth, humming as Tih curled into his arms.

She came back a moment later with a small bowl of ice cream with chocolate drizzles and chocolate chips on top, setting it on his lap.

"There you go, my handsome pirate."

"Thank you, Mommy." He shoved a big spoonful in his mouth before offering one to Tih, who gladly obliged, licking their lips and flapping their wings in approval.

"How was your day?" She sat down in front of him, sipping on her tea.

"It was a lot of fun!"

"Yeah? Did you like playing together?"

Tih nodded vigorously, snuggling into Canada.

"I wanna be a pirate when I grow up!" Canada bounced as he cuddled Tih close.

She giggled and ruffled his hair. "You do whatever you want, my baby."

"Really!?"

She grinned, giggling as well. "Really. If you want to be a pirate, be a pirate."

"Will you come see me when I'm a pirate?"

"Of course I will." She squished his cheeks, nuzzling his nose with hers. "I'll always come see you if you want me to."

He smiled and snuggled against her.

"Would you like to go take a nap? Or, do you wanna have me help you get over your fears?"

"Can you... help me?"

"Of course." She pressed a kiss to his cheek.

He smiled. "Alright."

"Ready?"

He nodded, giving her a smile.

She pulled him close and walked out the back door, setting him down in front of the water on the beach. "Here you go. Do you want me to hold your hand so you feel safe?"

"Y-Yes," he replied, shaking slightly.

She took hold of his hands, holding him close as she set his feet down in the water.

"What do you want for dinner tonight? Do you want any pirate cakes?"

He cuddled close. "Pirate cakes?"

"That's right, pirate cakes." She played with his hair with one hand as Thanatos curled around his free hand. "They're really yummy cakes that pirates eat for dinner."

"Y-Yes please."

"Do you want to stop?"

He shook his head, curling into her.

"Okay." She sat down in the water in front of him, giving him a soft smile. "Okay. We won't stop yet, then." She looked down at Thanatos, who rested their wings on his arms.

"Am I... A-Am I doing good?"

"You're doing amazing, my baby." She gave him a soft smile, kissing all across his face. "Amazing."

He sighed and finally relaxed, even kicking his feet a bit.

She grinned, kissing his cheek. "I'm so proud of you."

"Really?" His eyes sparkled.

She nodded, pressing kisses all across his face. "I'm so so so so proud of you, my little pirate."

"I love you, Mommy."

She smiled and pressed a kiss to his forehead. "I love you too, my baby." She squeezed his hands. "Do you wanna try going deeper into the water?"

He paused. "Will Tih be with me?"

"Yes, my baby. Tih will be with you all the time. They'll keep you safe from any scary things in the water." She nuzzled his nose with hers. "Even your mother."

He smiled and held out his arms.

She pulled him close, slowly standing up and walking just two steps further into the water, then sitting back down. "Are you still doing okay?"

He nodded, taking deep breaths as he held onto Tih.

She smiled and squeezed his hands, holding him close. "What kind of pirate do you want to be when you grow up?"

"A good one. One that saves lots and lots of people."

She grinned, kissing his cheeks. "What kinds of people do you save?"

"Everyone!"

She sighed and squeezed his hands. "You're amazing. I think you could save a lot of people."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I think you'll save lots and lots and," she started tickling his sides, nuzzling his cheek, "lots of people."

He giggled and tried to squirm away.

She roared and held him close, nuzzling his neck. "I'm the dragon monster coming to eat you."

"No!! Tih!" Canada managed through all his laughing.

Tih wrapped their tail around Mommy and nibbled on her arm, making her gasp and jolt to the side like someone pushed her down to the side with a loud 'Ooooooh!' She looked up at Tih. "I have been slain!"

Canada giggled and hugged Tih. "You saved me!"

Tih cooed and curled around Canada, nuzzling his neck.

"I love you too." Canada hugged Tih even closer.

Mommy grinned, sitting back up and pulling them both close. "I love you two so much."

He sighed and snuggled close, Tih cuddling into both of them.

"Would you like to get out of the water now?"

"Yes please."

She pulled him close and got up, walking into the house. "Do you wanna have a shower and get all that ocean water off of you?"

He nodded, yawning. She smiled and brought him to the shower, setting him on the counter.

"Do you want me to help you wash off?"

"Yes please."

She started peeling off his clothes as she turned on the shower, humming a small song as she went along. He watched her move around with a smile, humming along with her. She chuckled and pulled him up, setting him down in the shower and sitting on the edge of the tub as she washed out his hair. He let her do what she wished, counting the tiles on the wall. Below him, Tih jumped around in the water, making happy little noises as they moved around. He giggled and held out his arms for Tih, and they leaned into his arms and snuggled into him in response, nuzzling at his neck.

"Love you!"

They made a cooing sound, curling into him. He sighed happily and cuddled close. Their tail curled around his wrist as they cuddled close to him in turn, resting their head on his shoulder. He closed his eyes, humming happily.

Mommy eventually pulled him out of the shower once he was all washed off, drying him with a fluffy towel and putting him in a simple shirt and pants.

"There. Do you feel better now, my baby?" She pressed a kiss to his forehead.

He nodded, taking her hand. "Thank you, Mommy."

"You're welcome, my baby." She walked to the front of the inn with him. "What would you like to do?"

"Will you play pirates with us?"

"Sure." She kneeled down and kissed his forehead.

He smiled and pulled her to his room. She followed after him, giggling.

"So, how do I play pirates with you two?"

"You can be the princess I save! Princess Mommy!"

She grinned and kissed his nose. "Alright, baby. I'll be Princess Mommy."

He waddled to get his wooden sword, giggling. She watched after him with a bright grin, Tih flying onto his shoulder.

"Here's your sword, Tih." Canada gave them their own sword as well.

They held the sword in their mouth, wings fluttering in excitement.

He kissed their nose before setting them down. They bounced and slithered around, holding up the sword.

He giggled and pointed his sword at them. "I will defeat you!"

They made a small barking sound, pointing the sword toward him. He giggled again, moving to fight them as they hovered in midair and swung their sword around.

He eventually poked their belly with a  wide grin. "I win!"

They fell to the floor, flapping their wings before letting their tongue loll out of their mouth.

"Yay! The pirate saved me!" Mommy clapped.

Canada scooped Tih  up before cuddling into Mommy. She held them both close, nuzzling Canada's shoulder.

"I love you, my babies."

"Love you too!"

She smiled and held him close, kissing his cheek. "What do you want to do for your birthday?"

"I dunno."

"Do you want anything for your birthday?"

"Nope! Just to spend time with Mommy and Tih."

"Not one thing?" She nuzzled his nose with hers.

He shook his head. "You already gave me everything!"

"You don't want toys? Or a new sword? Or..." she grinned. "A special treasure map?"

"Treasure map?" He looked up at her with wide, sparkling eyes.

"Yeah." She held out a small wrapped present. "A magic treasure map."

He gasped and bounced with excitement as Tih tapped and curled around his arm to watch him. "Thank you, Mommy!" He took it, immediately tearing open the wrapper.

"You're welcome, my baby."

Inside laid a small torn and weathered map tied together with a ribbon of a shimmering purple and blue. He cuddled against her side and unfurled the map, practically buzzing with excitement as she pulled him close, kissing his cheek.

On the map a few landmarks in faint, old pen looked almost just like the jungle that surrounded them with Mommy's house the only one for miles, and very close to the  ocean. Out into the trees, a giant 'X' marked the spot, little white dots following up to it.

He gasped. "This is amazing!"

"Do you like it?" She kissed the top of his head.

He nodded vigorously as he tried to squeeze closer, Tih even flying around excitedly at this point. "I love it!"

"Oh good." She pulled him closer. "Wanna go see the big red x?"

"Yes!"

She grinned, standing up and setting him on the ground. "Be careful now, there might be some scary monsters out and about."

He nodded and scrambled to get his pirate hat, then picked up Tih and set them on his shoulder. "Ready!"

They snuggled into him as she opened the front door, a small cart shaped like a boat with a pony at the front. "Your mighty ship, my pirate!"

He cheered and giggled, scrambling into it as Tih flapped around on his shoulder, followed by Mommy, who settled down next to him and took the reins of the 'boat'.

"Are you ready to fight bad monsters?" She nuzzled his cheek as Tih swirled around in Canada's lap.

"We're gonna defeat them all!" He held his sword in the air, beaming.

She grinned, kissing his cheek as the cart stopped. "Be careful. It's reeeeally dangerous, and some say a lot haven't come back alive."

"Okay!"

She opened the door, letting them go to the edge of the forest. "And remember, if you ever need help, just shout for me!"

"Okay, Mommy!" With that, he hopped out, looking back for Tih, who slithered behind him before hovering by his side, looking up at the forest.

"This is so cool, Tih." Canada squealed as he marched into the trees.

They settled on his arms and curled around it, looking down at the map.

He peered at the markings, then looked down at Tih. "Where to next?"

They pointed straight, sniffing the air.

He nodded and walked in that direction, humming to himself as he looked around him, then back at the map. They snuggled into him, their tail flicking and their wings flapping with excitement. All around them, the sounds of the animals swelled and stilled, only a slight breeze now filling the air. Canada stopped walking, holding out his little sword. Tih growled in response, flapping their wings as they stared around.

Then, out in front of them, a tiny ball of fur rolled into the clearing.

He gasped. "What's that?"

The ball unfurled to reveal a tiny seal-like creature, rolling around in the dirt and yipping.

He giggled and walked toward it. "Hello!"

The seal rolled toward him as well, its fluffy white fur singed with black on the very tips.

Tih wrapped around Canada's hand, growling and growing their wings to somehow intimidate the new monster.

Canada didn't seem to notice as he bent down to pet it, his eyes wide with curiosity.

The monster leaned into his touch, pawing at his hand and yipping again. Tih growled and flicked their tail, almost as though jealous of the new, softer, fluffier, and much cuter monster.

"You're adorable!" Canada scooped up the monster. "You're coming with us!"

Tih made a small whining sound in protest, retreating to his shoulder as the fluffier monster snuggled into his chest.

"I love you, Tih." Canada smiled up at them as he continued on, to which Tih only pouted.

They soon came upon a glowing orange and black monster, looking almost like a geko of some kind as it crawled across the ground.

"Hello!" Canada smiled at the new monster.

It looked up at him, sticking out its... melting... tongue.

He gasped. "Cool! Wanna join us?"

The monster tilted its head to the side, Tih slithering down in front of Canada and growling.

"Easy, Tih." Canada bent down and held out his hand to the monster.

The monster crawled forward and, as soon as his skin touched it, it felt like he touched an open flame. He yelped and snapped his hand away, blowing on his hand as Tih growled and set a gust of wind to the monster, making the orange on their body cool into black. Once he felt his hand cooled down enough, he  reached back out to touch the monster again, pouting. This time, the monster felt cool to the touch, still walking around as though nothing ever happened. He smiled and rubbed its head, to which I t leaned into his touch, crawling up his arm. He smiled once it settled down and moved to set off again.

In the middle of the clearing up ahead, a small pond laid still with bright, clear water, a few more monsters cuddled around it.

He gasped and made his way toward them. "Hi!"

They all looked up at him, the monsters on him cuddling closer as Tih pointed towards the middle of the lake.

"Okay, Tih!" He giggled. "Can you help us reach the treasure?" He looked to the monsters, smiling wide.

They all stood around the pond, a small staircase forming for him.

He gasped. "Thank you!" With that, he clung to Tih and ran down the stairs. Tih curled into him, making a small barking sound.

Right at the end of all the steps stood a bright, glowing gold treasure chest.

"Woah!" He moved to open it.

Inside rested an entire set of swords and gold pieces, as well as a few jewels, and a note.

He took one of the swords, then turned back to the note.

 

_Congratulations, o glorious pirate, you have found my treasure!_

_When you go to the shore, upon the waves will be your prized possession, my ship!_

_Good luck on your travels!_

 

He gasped. "But Tih, we can't carry all this treasure back."

They looked up at the monsters, then back at him.

"Oh." He smiled. "Excuse me?" he called to the monsters.

The monsters all looked down at him.

"Can we have help carrying the treasure back? You can keep some too."

The monsters all scrambled down and grabbed some of the treasure, looking up at him.

"Follow me!" He laughed as he carried the swords and walked to the ship. "Mommy!"

She popped her head out from the back of the ship. "Hello, my baby. Did you get the treasure?"

"I did! And look at all the friends I made!" He gestured around to the many little creatures he collected.

"Oh, my baby, I'm so proud of you!" She pulled him close, kissing all across his face.

He giggled and nuzzled close. "We got a ship too! Can we live on it now?"

She laughed and pulled him close, pointing over to the shore, where a little ship floated above the water. "Of course!"

He laughed and pulled away to run toward it with Tih and all his animal companions walking after him. When he reached the boat, he clambered onto the deck, gasping and looking around. All the monsters followed him onto the deck, bouncing around and making sounds of happiness.

"Can they live here too, Mommy?" He turned back to her as she stepped onto the boat.

"If you want." She looked around at the different monsters. "If we have room for all of them."

He herred and look you he monsters. "Do you wanna live here?"

They all bounced around and made happy little noises, some of them crowding around him. Tih, however, stayed outside the circle, curling into himself in the corner and staring down at the wood below him. He picked up on Tih's distress as the other animals bombarded him, and after he pet the animals at least once, he made his way over to Tih. They looked up at him, looking so sad and alone as their wings sagged and their head hid behind their tail.

He offered out his arms. "Tih?"

They looked up at him, wings still hung low.

"What's wrong?"

They looked over at the monsters, then back up at him, their head laying on the wood of the ship.

"Never." He picked them up and held them close.

They curled into him, tail wrapping tightly around his hand as they nuzzled his neck.

"I love you." He scratched just behind their head.

They purred and wrapped their wings around him in content.

"Aw, was your little Tih worried you would leave them?" Mommy chuckled, already covered in most of the other monsters.

He nodded, smiling. "But, no one is as good as my Tih!"

She grinned as Tih made a vibrating cooing sound, nuzzling his neck and cheek. "I'm sure you two will be best of friends."

He smiled and went below deck to cuddle up with Tih in a bed. They collapsed on his chest and curled up, closing their eyes. He cuddled them close and closed his eyes as well. Thanatos was asleep in no time, breathing soft and light. He followed soon after, snoring.

When he woke up, Tih stared up at him with wide golden eyes and flapping wings, a fish twitching in their mouth.

He jumped, scooching back at the sight. "Tih!" he screeched.

They tilted their head to the side, chewing on the fish.

He scrunched up his nose. "Gross."

They made a small whining sound, chewing on more of the fish. He sighed and patted their head, giggling and shaking his head. They grabbed the fish and engulfed the entire thing, licking their lips.

He rolled his eyes. "How are the others?"

They curled into his lap, snuggling into him and making that vibrating cooing sound. He smiled and held them close.

"Canada, wake up." A small knock sounded at the door.

"I'm up!"

Mommy opened the door and gave a soft smile. "Would you like to finally start sailing?"

"Yeah!" He launched out of bed, Tih yapping and following after him.

She took hold of his hand, pulling him close and setting him now in front of the wheel. "Would you like to help me steer the ship?"

"Yes please!"

...

Tih curled into Canada's lap, their wings flapping every so often as their tail wound around Canada's hand.

Canada idly ran his hand over their scales, looking over his papers. Tih, feeling as though they haven't received enough affection yet, looked up at Canada, making a tiny noise and nuzzling his hand.

"I don't want to work anymore, Tih," he mumbled, playing with Tih's little wings between his fingers.

They made a small growling sound in content, their wings fluttering as they nuzzled his side. He scooped them into his arms and bumped his nose to their snout with a little smile. They nuzzled his cheek in response, their tail beating at his chest as they nibbled on his hand. He chuckled and held them closer to his chest, tracing along their back scales. Then, out of nowhere, they bit down hard on his palm, some sort of burning sensation on his skin. Right on his scar.

He yelped. "Tih, what are you-"

They pulled back and looked up at him, licking the small spots of his blood from their teeth and grinning.

_Hi dad._

His eyes widened. "Did you- Are we-"

They nuzzled his neck, purring quietly.

He rolled his eyes and sighed as he held them close. "You're such a troublemaker sometimes."

 _Come play with me._  They poked at his chest with their nose.

He pushed back in his chair and let Tih rest around his arm. "What would you like to do?"

 _Water games!_ They bounced their head up and down as they looked up at Canada.

He snorted and stood up, brushing himself down and running a hand through his hair to smooth it out. "Alright."

They jumped around in his lap, grinning and cheering while making little happy barks and squeaks. He scooped them up and set them on his shoulder before walking to the beach, to which they curled their neck loosely around his neck so not to fall.

"Love you." Canada tapped Tih's nose.

_Love you too. I think._

He smiled and set him down in the sand to shrug out if his clothes. They jumped and played around in the water, snaking around and flapping their wings. He dove in a moment after, laughing as Tih grinned up at him, wings flapping and tail running through the water.

"You're adorable."

They snaked over to him and swirled around his arm, nibbling on his finger as they looked up at him with bright golden eyes.

"Why do you nibble so much?" He held up Tih and set them back on his shoulder.

They opened their mouth, showing off their mostly toothless mouth with only about two teeth.

Canada gasped and cooed, then tapped their nose once more. "Adorable. And teething. Do you need something to chew on?"

They gave a tiny nod, nuzzling into him.

"Well," he shrugged, "I guess you can use my hand for now. I'll find something else when we get back."

They latched onto his hand, nibbling and chewing on it as they snuggled into him. He hummed and held them to his chest, settling into the sand at the edge of the water. They rested on his chest, snuggling into him as they settled down.

He looked down at them. "This is nice."

 _Are we going to help another village soon?_ They rolled around on his arms.

He tapped his chin. "Mmhmm. In a few hours."

 _Now?_  They gave him bright eyes. _I like pretty villages. Are we gonna help sea people too? I like sea people._

"We're going to help everyone." He patted their head. "But we need to get supplies first.

 _Where? Can I help?_  They bounced up and down on his arm.

He chuckled. "No. I don't want you getting hurt."

They pouted, sticking out their tongue.

"For me?"

They laid their head down on his shoulder. Okay. I guess I can.

"Oh good." He patted their head.

They grinned and flew up to his head, settling down in his hair.  _Can we go get stuff now? I promise I'll be good._

"Alright, alright." He moved to get out if the water and pulled on his clothing.

They grinned and snuggled into his hair, making a small purring noise. He reached up to pat their head before walking back. They grinned and patted his nose with theirs. He eventually set them down once they got home, moving to gather supplies. They bounced around, snuggling into him.

"You're too cute."

_You're cute too. I think. Are you cute?_

"Why's that?" He poked Tih's head.

_I dunno. I think you're cute, but I don't know what cute means._

"Cute means something you find worthy of affection. Platonic affection most of the time."

_Oh. Then you're cute._

"Is that so?"

_Yeah. Really cute. Really really really very cute._

"I think you're really really really very cute too."

They grinned and nuzzled his hair.  _Are we gonna go to help the sea people guys yet?_

He nodded and slung his bag over his shoulder before holding out his arms. They jumped into his arms, curling against his chest. He hummed and cradled them close, walking to his ship.

_I like boats. Boats are fun. Boats means we're going on a trip somewhere fun._

"You think so?"

_Yeah. It means I get to be with you, and I get to see the ocean, and I get to eat fishies..,_

"We should take more trips then. Maybe make the boat our permanent home?"

_That sounds nice. What about your sister though? And your brother? And your dad and mom?_

"They don't want me anymore, remember? That's why I started sailing with Zea and Aus."

_Oh. Okay. But what about them?_

"They can go rot."

_But I thought you liked Zee and Aus._

"Oh. You meant them. Well, I already spoke to them and they're okay with living with us."

_Does that mean I get to help pick a boat?_

"Of course."

They bounced around on his shoulder, cheering and shooting a bit of a bright white fire out of their mouth. He snorted and patted their head. They snuggled into his hand, a few tendrils Of smoke escaping from their mouth.

"So, what kind of ship should we get?"

_A really really really really big one with black wood and white sails and a magic map that only we can see the ink to. Like the one in that chest we can get that's only two miles southwest on that tiny island everyone thinks is pointless._

He chuckled. "Have you been thinking about this a lot?"

_Yeah. We should go get that map. I can help you find it._

"We should." He nuzzled his nose.

_Can we go now? You don't have to swim long. Or, we can rent a boat there._

"Let's rent a boat."

 _Okay._ They curled around his neck before crawling down his chest and into his boots, hiding there and making it so the only thing anyone else could see was their eyes, and even then it just looked like jewels on the end of Canada's boots. He hummed and started off toward the docks, calling for New Zealand and Australia as they made their way over. Tih watched around with wide eyes, sniffing and nibbling on his boots. He smiled his siblings finally came, leading them to the boat they rented. They suddenly sneezed in his boot, rubbing at their nose with their wings.

"Bless you."

They nuzzled into his leg, looking around.  _I'm cold. Is there any water on the boat?_

"There is." He held his arms out.

They flew into his arms, curling into him and pointing out towards the island.  _The map is that way. I'll tell you where next after._

He nodded, directing Australia toward the stern as they stepped on the boat. The three of them began driving the boat out toward the island out on the horizon, getting as close to it as they possibly could.

"Do you want to go in the water?" Canada looked down at Tih.

_You're warm._

He smirked. "So no?"

_No, I like you, dad. You're cute._

He snorted. "Thank you, son."

They grinned, hopping off the boat when they got to the island.  _This way, dad. The map is this way._

He nodded and tried to maneuver the boat so he could steer with Tih.

They flapped along the shore, suddenly stopping and sitting down, pointing toward the water. It's under you, dad.

"Alright."

They dove into the water, disappearing under the waves.

Canada took a slow breath and shrugged off his jacket, then dove in after them. They perched on the side of the sand slope just before the beach, flames of a bright white spewing out of their mouth and into the sand, creating glass walls which they could both slide into. Canada swam his way through the glass tunnel behind Tih, barely fitting through the tight ring. He had to crawl on the glass in order to get through, his shoulders crammed against the sides. He began to run out of breath the deeper they went in, his lungs crawling and burning with the need for oxygen. He had to keep crawling.

Just before he couldn't take it anymore, the two broke through and collapsed into a grand room that looked older than a hundred centuries without the water to follow. In the middle of the room, a gigantic map with seemingly thousands of little markings and lines of islands, countries, cities, and past monuments only known in stories  from all over the world. The map tinted blue, green, grey, tan, and so on depending on the environments of the certain areas.

_Dad, it's a magic map! We can find the portal to Paradise!_

Tih flapped his wings excitedly and dove toward the map. When Tih tapped a certain part of the map, it began glowing and zoomed into a certain space, which revealed a few markings - some red, some purple, and some gold - that previously didn't exist.

Canada pushed himself off the ground as he panted and coughed, then walked toward the middle of the room, the clicking of his heels echoing around the marble and carved stones. The statues seemed to watch his every move, jewels glistening dangerously as he stepped closer to the map, the most terrifying of them all sitting upon a throne, holding a trident of polished pearl.

_Take it, dad!_

He reached out and reverently took hold of one side of the paper, gingerly rolling it up and holding it close to his chest. The room began to flood behind them, the eyes of the statues dimming to a dull grey.

 _We can put it in your quarters!_  They flew up to his arm curled up around his hand.

He chuckled and ran his thumb along their back. "Sure."

They grinned and nuzzled his neck back with a purr.  _Yay!_

"Let's go?"

_Okay, dad. This way._

Tih flew up to the tunnel of glass now furiously spraying out water. Canada followed after them, keeping the map secure to his chest as he took one last breath, then crawled to the other side. The water rushed angrily against the both of them furiously to occupy the space within the cave. Canada did his best to break through, his breath seeping out faster than before. He clawed at the glass desperately to try and stay grounded, his breath punched out of him. Tih fared no better, slithering and thrashing erratically to try and get out of there.

Just when they thought they might not make it out, they broke through the tunnel and crashed to the surface, coughing and sputtering to catch their breaths.

"You get it?" New Zealand leaned over the side of the boat and held out her hand, to which Canada grabbed, and she hoisted him up.

"Yes." He pushed himself up and held out the map, which somehow stayed completely dry despite Canada's swimming. "Now, all we need to do is buy a boat."

 _What about that one?_  Tih pointed in front of all of them.

Toward the direction of Tih's pointing stood a ship of almost pitch black wood, pearly white sails flowing slightly in the wind. Along the sides of the boat, tiny windows dotted all the way down, as well as a carved sculpture of a dragon similar to Tih at the bow.

_That one looks nice._

"It looks expensive," Australia muttered.

Tih flew over toward it. _I wanna see it._

"Tih, hold on!" Canada tried to grab them.

They looked down at the other three from the top of the other ship, wings flapping excitedly.

"It's too expensive!" Canada shouted, hoping Tih could hear.

_But there's no one on it._

"... Fine." Canada sighed and steered the rental toward the other boat.

They flew back down to him, grinning and bouncing.  _There's a board on the other side you can use to get up to it._

He made a small noise and wheeled to the other side of the boat. Tih pushed the board over to the rental boat and Canada stepped onto the deck, Australia and New Zealand following after.

Tih looked up at the three of them, tail swishing from side to side.  _Let's go!_

Canada chuckled and moved to set up the boat. They followed after him, resting back on his shoulder.

"Where to?"

_I dunno. We should go save some people!_

"Alright."

_Yay! And we can use the map!_

He nodded and spread out the map, Australia and New Zealand looking over his shoulders to examine it.

_What city should we go for first?_

Canada glanced over the map, then pointed off to the right of the map. "East. I... forgot the name, but it's east of here."

Australia sat down in one of the chairs. "You sure? That's monster territory."

"We may not be as safe," New Zealand warned.

Tih tapped their nose, and the map zoomed into the city of Calavisti.  _Does he mean this one?_

Canada nodded. "This one. We should start sailing soon. The night creatures may not be so kind." He zoomed the map back out, small white dots forming from the city, to another blue dot.

_There._

"There?"

_Now all we have to do is follow the white dot things until we reach the city._

"Alright."

_This is so much fun!_

He chuckled. "I'm glad you're happy."

They grinned, nuzzling close.

...

When Canada woke up, found himself staring at the top of a dark black cave with only a small ray of sun peeking through the midnight rock, floating on one of the only pieces of his ship he had left.

"How... What...?" He slowly sat up and stared around. "Australia? New Zealand?" he called.

No answer came but his own echoed voice.

"So," a smooth voice crooned from all around him, "you're Harbinger."

He blinked, looking around before wincing and pressing a hand to his side, which came away slick with a dark red. "I am," he hissed out.

"And you came here to destroy us like all the rest?"

"... What?" He replaced his hand at his side, wincing at the pain sparking from his wound.

"You've come," fingers brushed along his jaw, his skin going numb and dulling out the pain, "to destroy us, haven't you?"

He jolted around, but he found no hand there. "... No." He unwound on his piece of driftwood, glancing in every direction he could.

"Are you," the fingers traced along his neck, his skin tingling, "or are you not the Harbinger?"

He twisted around once more. "I am."

The touch disintegrated as soon as he turned.

He stared toward the direction, then turned his head back.  You're a siren, yes?"

 "As you might have guessed."

He glanced around as he saw the ripples dance through the water. "... Then could you tell me where I am?"

"Where do you think?" Fingers traced along his side, the stinging slowly ebbing away.

He tried to grab the hand, but it slipped just out of his grasp. "I'm not sure. I can't even remember what happened to my ship." The color drained from his skin, and he lurched up to a sitting position. "To my crew. My ch-" he cut himself off.

"Your...?" The hands traced up and down along his chest, a shadow forming to his side.

"My children," he snapped, trying to shove the hands away.

"There's no reason to be so distraught." The hands pushed him back down.

He gripped at the hands, but they slid away once more. "I don't care if  _I'm_  alright! I'm worried about my children!" He tried to dive into the water. "Let me go!"

"As I said, they're just fine." The hands yanked him back.

"Then let me see them," he growled, narrowing his eyes in front of him.

The water swirled and shifted below him, and in the water, he saw the reflection of his little twins sleeping on a small sofa.

He sighed in relief and hovered his hand over the water. "Thank you."

A few fingers traced along his chest again, something warm and soft pressing along his neck and shoulder. "Will you settle down?"

"What of the rest of my crew?"

"They're around."

He pushed away from the water and sighed. "Thank you."

The hands disappeared again, a few ripples forming to his right before disappearing.

He paused for a moment, then ran a hand through his hair to comb it out. "Do you know what happened to my ship?"

"What is it to you,  _Harbinger_?" another voice snapped.

"It's my home." He looked up toward the echos. "My ship was my home."

"Just as you have tried to destroy ours?"

"What? I've done  _no_ such thing." He tried to push himself up.

"You pride yourself on our deaths!"

"What? No! You can ask Tih. I devote my  _life_  to helping ones of the sea."

"You show up to the shores of country after country with our corpses. You show up to king after king after king with the dead bodies of our brethren. There is a reason you're named Harbinger."

"It's because I've been trying to advocate for your proper rights! I give funeral rights to those you have lost!" He tried to sit up taller and stared up at the ceiling. "Those two children are faeries I rescued from an abusive household. I do _not_  kill innocents."

"Yet you slaughter us village by village without any regard for our numbers. Without any regards for the endangerment of our species."

"That is  _not_ me." He clutched at the wood, scratching his nails against the surface so not to scream. "What makes you-"

"Then how, pray tell, have we gotten reports of you killing us?" yet another voice chimed in.

"I am  _not_  killing you!"

"And what of the dead sea dragon in your possession?" the first voice interjected.

"Tih? They're a dear friend. They-" he chuckled as a small, amused smile slid onto his face- "managed to hit their head on some rocks."

"They refuse to breathe. How is that not dead?"

"They are being stubborn. If you allow me to see them-"

"Why would we allow you to see the one you tried to murder!?"

"Chile, please." The voice from before appeared from right next to Canada's ear, a hand the shade of smooth chocolate resting over Canada's. "You said this Tih was your friend?"

Canada nodded, mentally sighing in relief. "Please let me see them."

The hand pulled him into the water, something warm and soft pressing against his lips for what seemed like forever. He blinked, gripping the hand.

When the warm, soft thing pulled away, the water around him went from a pitch black to a shimmering blue color, a man in front of him with his right eye a - wait a second, that wasn't an eye... that was a stone of chrysocolla - and a white left eye. His skin glistened a soft shade of chocolate, his legs replaced by a shimmering forest green tail with mud brown and leaf red accents. His slick black hair fell over his almost perfectly sculpted face...

Gods above, he was handsome.

Wait...

Was he breathing underwater?

Canada touched a hand to his throat, his eyes wide as he stared at the man in front of him. He traced along the side of his neck, where he found slits of flesh leading inward.

Gills?

He took a deep breath - a rather odd sensation, like water passing on lungs but without the choking - and attempted to speak.

"Hello."

He gasped. He couldn't contain his excitement.

"This is amazing." He spun around in place, his eyes focusing on everything around him. "The water is gorgeous. When Tih takes me underwater, it's... less than pleasant."

The other man chuckled and laced their fingers together, sliding through the water and down into the depths, further and further down the lagoon waters. The deeper they swam downward, the more they found sources of light bobbing in the water around them, little orbs hovering within mouths to many other systems of caves. They swam until they reached one of them, which lit up for them.

"Your companion should be in here." The stone eye of the other man began to glow a soft turquoise and leaf green.

"Thank you." Canada smiled back at him, trying to catch a glance at the contents of the other caves, only to find them invisible to him.

"They are on the surface if you are looking for the children."

The other man pulled Canada into the mouth of the brightened cave until they crashed to the surface, the two of them now in the middle of a fancy room decorated with all kinds of hand-carved furniture, softened leather furniture, and a pool off to the side, as well as other necessities such as food storages. Tih laid in the waters of the pool, their head rested on one of the swimming mermaids helping the dragon out.

"Tih!" Canada sprinted towards them, a look of concern etched into his features.

They didn't respond, still submerged beneath the water as the man swam toward the pool through the river connecting them. Once by their side, Canada  moved to touch their neck. Their skin still felt warm to the touch, barely a movement of their ribcage to indicate they still lived.

Canada made a soft noise low in his throat, tugging off his gloves to reveal symbols carved into his palms, the scars the same black as his eyes. "So stupid."

They didn't respond.

Canada mumbled to himself, moving to stand by their head and running his hands along their scales until he got to their forehead, where matching scars were carved. "Come back to me, Thana."

They eventually blinked awake, looking up at Canada with matching black eyes.

"Hello, old friend." Canada soothed his hands over Tih's scales.

They made a small sound up at him and touched their snout to his nose.

"You scared me." He placed his hands under their head. "Don't do that again."

They looked up at him, their wings flapping a bit.

"I know. Let's go get the twins, yes? I believe I have overstayed my welcome."

They gave a short nod, grabbing his shirt with their teeth and resting him on their back, then dove into the water as the man swam next to the both of them.

"What did you do?" Canada ran a hand over their side.

_The crash took me out._

They brought him up to the surface of the water, setting him on the cave floor in front of the couch with the twins and another siren. One which had a blue and black tail with red accents.

"Father!" The little boy ran up to Canada, throwing his arms around his leg as the little girl tottled after him, giggling.

The man with the stone for an eye rested his arms on the floor, laying his head on his arms. "You haven't overstayed your welcome."

"Your companions seemed to say otherwise." Canada scooped the twins up, setting them on Tih'a back. "Oh... I never got your name."

"Mexico. And, I assume you already know Chile." He nodded toward the one on the couch. "There is no need to worry about him. He is just concerned for our wellbeing."

"Much how your Uncle is." Canada poked the little girl's belly, causing her to giggle. "I am Canada. These two are Newfoundland and Labrador."

"It is a pleasure to meet you." Mexico gestured around. "If you have not figured it out already, this is the place where injured sea creatures, as well as the orphaned, come seeking refuge."

"It's quite beautiful." Canada smiled as Newfoundland and Labrador slid down Tih'a back to snuggle against their side and close their eyes, to which Tih curled around them in return, wings rested against them.

Mexico smiled. "One of the only places with the supplies required."

Canada nodded in understand, sitting down to rest against them as well. "Can I ask what happened to my ship?" He had already tugged his gloves back on.

"We are repairing it now." Mexico waved Canada off.

"Really?"

Mexico nodded, giving another smile as the stone glittered and shimmered in the light. "Really."

"Thank you. It really means a lot."

"Of course. Anyone who helps the sea is friends of ours."

Canada smiled back with a mental sigh of relief.

"Would you like anything while you stay here? We are having dinner in a few moments." Mexico nodded off to the side.

"I'm alright, but Tih and the twins may be another story."

Mexico turned to the three, smiling. "What would you like to eat? We already know what the others from your crew want."

"Meat!" Newfoundland threw her hands in the hair, tilting backward.

Mexico chuckled, smiling as his left eye glittered. "What kind, little one?"

"Red!"

Canada cleared his throat. "Raw meat."

Mexico hummed and nodded. "What kind? There are quite a few we have stored."

"It doesn't matter as long as it's fresh." Canada looked over at the twins. "I don't want them getting sick."

Mexico gave a small smile. "Alright." He then turned to the twins. "What kind of red meat do you want?"

"Beef?"

He snapped his fingers, a bell beginning to ring from above him. "Alright, dinner will be ready in ten minutes."

"Magic!" Labrador held his hands up, causing a small shimmering ball to form.

Mexico smiled, holding out his hand. "Would you like to see a magic trick?"

Little Labrador nodded, giggling as he waddled over.

Mexico grinned, twiddling his fingers as small sparks of green threaded in from the stone in his eye, a small doll forming in his hand.

Labrador gasped, reaching for it with bright eyes.

Mexico gave him the doll. "Do you like it?"

"It's pretty." He snuggled close to Newfoundland. "Like Father."

Mexico  smiled and turned to Newfoundland. "Would you like to have a doll too?"

She shook her head, looking at it over Labrador's shoulder.

"Are you sure? I can make you one if you want."

"... Please?" She looked up with bright, wide little eyes.

He smiled and held out his hand again, more threads of green curling into his hand before receding to reveal another doll formed in his palm. "There you are."

"Thank you!" She snatched up the doll.

"Of course, little one." He rested his arms on the floor again.

The twins giggled and ran off to go play with Tih, leaving Canada and Mexico alone.

"What's it like here?" Canada watched them show the dolls to the black serpent.

"Well, we try to make it as comfortable as possible, so I would hope it's desirable for the guests. Definitely keeps us stressed, however." Mexico chuckled.

"It's lovely, in my opinion. Do you always greet others like you did me?" He smirked in amusement.

Mexico snorted and shook his head. "No. You're the first."

"How wonderful."

"Thank you, thank you."

Canada snickered and tugged at his gloves. "So, what is my reputation?"

"Depends upon who sees you. Either a serial murderer, or an angel of mercy."

He made a distressed sound. "... Ah. I'd prefer the latter."

Mexico chuckled. "Don't worry, most of the people who see you as a serial murderer are the ones that misinterpret information."

"Uh huh."

Mexico slowly slid out of the water and settled onto the rocks, his hands keeping him from falling back into the water again. Canada looked over and gave Mexico a smile, relaxing against Tih's side while Tih nuzzled the little twins.

After a few moments, children came crashing in, giggling as they all piled onto Mexico.

"Daddy!"

Canada smile widened and he rested a hand on Tih's side, watching Mexico from the corner of his eye.

Mexico laughed and held the children close, nuzzling their cheeks one by one. "Hello, little ones. How are all of you today?"

A few voices chorused an answer in different, watery languages.

Canada chuckled, letting the twins snuggle against his chest as he walked back over to Mexico.

Mexico grinned and held all the other children close. "Would you like food now?"

"Yeah!"

Mexico let them all go, the kids all sprinting - or swimming - off to another room.

"They're quite adorable." Canada stopped by Mexico's side.

Mexico couldn't help but smile, watching after them. "Yeah. They are."

"So, you adopted them?"

"Well, until someone else comes to take them in, yes. I suppose I have."

"That's wonderful."

He hummed and watched after the kids, the smell of cooked meats and chocolate cakes wafting in from the other room. "I hope so."

The twins gasped and bounced excitedly at the smell, looking up at their father, who smiled back.

"Well, don't be shy. Go have some."

"Thank you!" They both hugged Canada before running off.

A soft smile formed on his face as he watched after them. "Thank you for letting us stay." He ran his hand over Tih's scales, to which they cooed and curled around him.

"Of course." Mexico nodded.

"And thank you for caring for Tih as well. I don't know what I would do without them."

They nuzzled Canada's neck, making a small noise.

"Of course." Mexico gave a smile.

Canada smiled back, wrapping his arms around Tih and closing his eyes.

"Are you planning on eating?" Mexico rested his chin on his arms.

"Not at the moment." Canada scratched behind on one of their scales and Tih laid their head on Canada's shoulder in response, making a low humming sound as a few tendrils of smoke escaped from the slits in their snout.

Mexico hummed and nodded. "Alright. As long as you do eat."

"I will." Canada pressed a kiss to Tih's snout.

"I shall see you soon?" Mexico pushed himself up and out of the water.

"Of course."

He nodded, diving back into the water without another word.

 _How do you feel?_  Tih looked down at Canada.

"Better now that you and the twins are here." Canada brushed himself off. "Did you see Australia and New Zealand?"

Tih looked around, their eyes flashing a few colors before they turned back to Canada.  _With the twins._

"Good." He relaxed against them once more.

They nuzzled his neck, resting a wing around him.

The two stayed like that for a while before Canada looked up. "How did you end up so hurt?"

They blinked.  _You... don't remember?_

"I... don't remember much." He looked down at some of the fresh bruises and cuts littering his skin. "I don't even know what happened to the ship."

 _Another rival pirate tried to crash us._ Tih looked off towards the wall.  _They were searching for this place._

"... Oh." He curled into them.

They nuzzled his neck, holding him close.  _It's alright now._

The two ended up staying with Mexico and the others for about a year or so. Inevitably, however, Canada has grown anxious, and had to set back out into the ocean. Canada readied his newly repaired ship, taking up supplies, equipment, gunpowder, weapons, and hygienic products should they need them.

"Is there any chance I could come with you?" Mexico asked as Tih dove into their compartment.

"... If you'd like." Canada hauled up a crate into the storage rooms of the ship below deck.

Mexico smiled, the jewel glittering with the colors of the waters below them. "If you will have me."

Canada's cheeks flushed. He turned his head away before Mexico could get a glance at them. "Of course."

Mexico grinned. "Thank you." He glanced back at the cave behind him before tapping his jewel, the tendrils of turquoise magic swirling around him before...

Legs?

Canada blinked, dumbfounded, unable to comprehend what he saw in front of him. "I didn't know you could-"

"I can, yes." Mexico  gave a short nod, lifting himself out of the water and onto the dock. "I don't do it often." He grabbed the edge of the dock, sighing before slowly getting up.

*A-Are you sure-"

"I'll be fine. I just need to... practice." He stayed standing for a few moments, blinking the spots out of his eyes  a few times before taking slow steps up and down the dock, which then turned to regular walking, jogging, and finally sprinting.

Though... it didn't go very smoothly.

Not even three steps into just walking, he stumbled and almost fell.

Almost.

Canada rushed forward to catch Mexico before he could collide with the wood of the dock, making a small noise in the back of his throat. "Be careful."

Mexico leaned heavily against Canada, wrapping an arm tight around him as he steadied himself on his feet. "... Thank you."

Canada swallowed hard and nodded, keeping his hands on his waist. "Of... Of course."

He eventually pulled away - though it almost seemed hesitant - before starting up again, eventually getting comfortable with his legs again. Not without a few more falls, of course.

"... Ready?" Canada  asked once Mexico seemed satisfied.

Mexico nodded with a bright smile.

"Follow me, then." Canada called for Tih, then climbed onto their back the moment they slithered up.

Mexico did as told, walking after him and sliding his hands into his pockets until he reached Canada and Tih, Canada holding out a hand to him so he could get up as well. He took it and heaved himself onto the back of the serpent, holding Canada to his chest.

Tih made a small noise, flapping their wings a few times.  _Have you told him yet?_

"No!" He squeaked as Tih suddenly took off into the sky.

Mexico's grip tightened around Canada as he blinked, looking down at Canada. "'No' what?"

_You have to tell him. The sexual tension is making me sick._

"N-Nothing." Canada shot a glare at Tih's head.

"Are you sure? Has something happened?" He leaned forward against Canada, making Canada suck in a sudden breath.

_You need to tell him._

"What am I even supposed to  _say_?"

_I don't know, just tell him._

"No."

_Why not? Everyone can see it. Well, except him, apparently._

Mexico now looked even more confused, choosing to stay silent this time around.

"What am I supposed to say? Something stupid like 'I would never sail the seas again if it meant staying with you'?"

_He can hear you, you know. And, I dunno, sure._

Canada flushed and sighed, hiding his face in Tih's scales. "I hate you."

_Love you too. Now tell him._

"No."

_Do it._

"Make me."

_Alright._

Tih turned to Mexico with a hiss and latched his teeth into his shirt, hoisting him off his back, then dangling him fifty feet above the ocean surface far below. Mexico immediately latched onto Tih's snout with a terrified squeak, doing his best not to fall to his death.

_Did you know he has a fear of heights?_

Canada swallowed hard, then leaned forward and hugged Tih's neck from behind. "Tih, this isn't the way to do it. Leave him be."

_Then promise me._

"Canada-" Mexico cleared his throat- "could you... tell them to put me down?" He tried to reach for one of Tih's horns, but they pulled away and dropped him a bit more so he couldn't reach their snout. He made another terrified squeak.

Canada threw up his arms. "Fine, I promise!"

They seemed satisfied with the answer, throwing Mexico into the air - eliciting a scream from the poor man - and catching him on their back. Mexico looked terrified out of his mind, shaking as he sat there, his ocean-like stone a torrent of raging blues and terrified greens. His breathing sounded ragged, like he might pass out at any second.

"I'm sorry." Canada reached out and squeezed his hand.

Mexico latched onto Canada's hand and pressed it close to his chest. "I'm fine, just... give me a moment."

Canada grimaced at the strength of Mexico's grip. "It's really not."

Mexico eased his grip off of Canada's hand once the initial shock of adrenaline eased away. "I'm... I'm fine."

Canada bit down hard on his lip for a moment, debating with himself for what felt like hours on whether or not he should continue with his plan. Finally, he decided to go in for it. He swiveled around on Tih's back the best he could and pressed a quick soft kiss to Mexico's cheek. "If you say so."

Mexico's head snapped up, his cheeks dusting a soft pink before he turned away, staring off into the distance. He flinched at the sudden reminder of just how high he sat in the sky, then turned his eye back down to the black scales beneath him. Canada grinned at his handiwork, the softest touch of pink on his cheeks as he turned back toward Tih's head.

_Finally._

"Yeah, yeah." Canada playfully smacked the side of Tih's neck, making them snort.

The three of them fell into an unreadable silence. Not comfortable, but not with any tension in it either. Canada didn't mind, staring out around them at the expansive ocean going in all direction as he listened to the slow fluttering of Tih's wings. The silence suddenly broke when Canada felt arms wrapping around his waist and a weight settle on his shoulder, followed by a warm body holding his back against it. Canada felt his cheeks grow even hotter, pressing back into the strong, comforting arms holding him with the tug of a smile stretching across his face. The silence became a comfortable quiet, only the slow beat of Tih's wings breaking it.

 _You two are adorable. Now, come on. We have work to do._ Tih dove down toward one of the clustered specks of buildings next to an island shoreline. A port town with only a touch of traffic. Nothing like the main cities further west.

Canada snorted and patted the side of Tih's neck. "Thank you,  _son_."

Tih let out a growl and smacked Canada's shoulder with their tail, causing Canada to break into a fit of laughter.

The three landed in the water next to the small wooden dock at the edge of town. Canada, eager to explore the town, jumped down and onto the dark wood of the dock. He took a deep breath and sighed, his hands rested on his hips.

"This is going to be great." He turned back to Mexico and held out his hand to help him off. "Don't you agree?"

Mexico grabbed Canada's hand and followed down after him. "I think s-" he stumbled a step, then stopped and corrected himself before he could faceplant onto the wood- "so."

Canada snickered and let go of Mexico's hand, holding out his arm for Tih so they had a place to perch when they shrank down. 

Mexico shot him a playful glare. "Hey,  _you_ try swimming for a few centuries, then start walking again."

Canada's feigned innocent smile widened as he kissed Mexico's cheek. "Sorry."

Mexico backed off, rubbing his cheek, then reaching into his pocket and plucking out an eye patch, which he tied to his head over his right eye.

Canada looked around at the quiet little town, watching a few people stroll through the dirt roads and speaking in all kinds of languages. "I won't be meeting my client until a few hours from now." He tore his eyes away to look back over at Mexico. "Where do you want to go first?"

Mexico shrugged, looking like he barely paid any attention as he gazed at the town, admiring everything around them like some kind of other world he stepped into.

Canada chuckled and poked Mexico's arm, making him jump. "Are you hungry?"

Mexico looked over at Canada. "What's there to eat?"

Canada shrugged. "Anything and everything?"

Mexico looked around, his eyes blown wide with wonder. "Really?"

Canada snorted and pulled Mexico off to one of the stands of steaming food. "Really. We can also sample things first."

Mexico followed right behind. "What does that mean?"

Canada shrugged. "You can eat a little bit of everything."

Mexico's eyes widened in surprise. "You can  _do_ that?"

Canada grinned and laid his head on Mexico's shoulder. "Of course. They like me here."

Mexico blinked and looked around, his eye bright with barely contained excitement.

Canada gestured forward. "Go on, pick whatever you want."

Mexico bit his lip, dulling out his own excitement. "I couldn't."

Canada tilted his head to the side. "Why not?"

Mexico shook his head and waved his hands in front of him. "I couldn't impose on you like that."

Canada smiled and took hold of Mexico's hands. "You're not imposing."

Mexico squeezed his hands back. "I couldn't dream of doing that to you."

"Darling, you're not imposing." Canada kissed his cheek.

Mexico's cheeks dusted pink as he looked away. "I'll be fine for now."

"Are you sure?"

Mexico only gave a short nod, clicking his heels against the wood of the dock.

Canada swished his lips to one side in thought. "If I get something, will you share it with me?"

Mexico cleared his throat and looked back at Canada, his face nearly clear of the pink color. "If that is what you want."

Canada laced their fingers together, pulling Mexico off toward the stands, carrying all kinds of foods from fish, to delicacies like Yuktup - a deep sea, deer-like creature only caught twice a year. Mexico looked down at it all, biting his lip as the turquoise from behind his eye patch began glowing from his excitement. His fingers traced along the wood of the crates, each one held cold by the power of the sea witch who ran it.

Canada watched him, his head laid upon his shoulder. "Does this look good? Or do you want something else?"

"I'm okay with anything you choose." Mexico's fingers drew upon the seams of the wood, entranced, drawn in by the meats surrounding him.

Canada frowned a bit and tapped Mexico's shoulder. "Are you sure?"

Mexico snapped out of his trance, clearing his throat as the glow of his gem dimmed beneath his eye patch. "Of course I'm sure." He looked around, clicking his boots against the wood.

Canada chose a plate of some bright-colored meat, dishing two portions out onto it and paying with a few coins, plus a little extra for the sea witch behind the cooking.

Mexico licked his lips. "Amazing."

"You think so?" Canada's eyes brightened as he looked up at Mexico.

Mexico nodded, shoving his hand into his pockets as he pulled back a bit, then rested his other hand on his shoulder.

Canada hummed in question. "What is it?"

He hummed in question. "What is what?"

Mexico shook his head. "It's nothing."

Canada nodded, turning his attention back to the fish.

Eventually, the two made it back to their home and found refuge in their bed, Canada curling into Mexico's side with a happy little sigh while Mexico hummed to him and traced along his side every so often, holding him close.

Canada stayed quiet a moment. "I should get back to the ship soon."

"Why not stay just a few days longer?" Mexico looked down at him. "You deserve a bit of a break."

Canada laughed. "Not a chance. I have work to do."

"Then what would change your mind?"

Canada narrowed his eyes in thought, then a grin lit up his face. "Come with us."

Mexico chuckled, playing with his hair. "Maybe."

"It's only for a few days." He kissed along Mexico's jaw.

Mexico hummed and moved to give him more access. "Maybe. I'm not sure how much help I can be."

"Please?" He nuzzled his cheek. "For me?"

Mexico pressed a kiss to his temple. "Alright, I will."

He made a happy noise and sat up.

"Hey, where are you going?" Mexico pulled him back down, trapping him to his chest. "You don't have to go anywhere yet."

"But-"

Mexico hushed him, pressing a light kiss to his lips. "Just relax. Let me take care of you, hm?" He pushed Canada down to lay on his stomach, massaging his back and shoulders.

Canada tried to come up with a retort, but gave up the moment Mexico's fingers pressed into his skin. He let out a defeated sigh and nodded, closing his eyes. He felt Mexico him in triumph against the back of his neck, then kiss his spine, kneading his hands into his skin.

"Thank you," Canada mumbled.

He felt Mexico press another kiss to his shoulder. "You're welcome."

He made a noise, falling asleep not too long later.

After Mexico felt sure Canada had fallen asleep, he sighed and moved to dress him in some silk pajamas before slipping out of the room and into the pool, turquoise threads surrounding him and turning his legs back into his green, red, and brown tail. He looked back at Canada one last time, smiling as he watched Canada snuggle into the blankets, then dove into the pool.

He coasted through the water and made his way up to the main room at the surface. He pushed himself onto the rock face and settled down on his perch. He heard a flap of wings next to him, and turned to see Tih had landed on the ground, staring straight at him.

"Yes?"

He saw his tail reel back, then felt it slam against the back of his head with an echoing  _SMACK_!

He blinked the stars out of his eye and looked back at Tih as he rubbed the already sore area. "What the hell!?"

They didn't say anything, continuing to stare at him.

Australia came up from behind and patted their side. "Tih, hold on a second, why are you even-"

_SMACK!_

"Hey!"

"Tih! Hold on!" Australia stepped in front of them. "Don't make me wake up Canada."

Tih huffed, small puffs of smoke escaping them.

"Why are you hitting him?" He stepped closer

They growled low in their throat, tail swiping from side to side.

Australia stared them down, then shrugged. "Fine, I'll go wake Aeron." He turned on his heel and moved toward the pool, hiding the smirk on his face.

Tih grabbed Australia's shirt using their teeth and lifted him up, trapping him in midair with another growl.

"Then tell us what happened." He crossed his arms.

They shot out another puff of smoke, making a deep rumbling sound resonating within his chest.

He arched a brow, not impressed at all. "C'mon."

They flicked their tail in agitation.

He managed to free himself from their jaws. "Then let me wake him up."

A hard flap of their wings stated their protest alongside slamming their tail against the ground.

"Because, well, you're obviously not going to tell us." He shrugged and pushed himself up onto their snout.

They then proceeded to chuck him into the water with a nasty hiss.

He spluttered and coughed up whatever salt water he swallowed down his nose, pushing himself, then simply walking back to shore. "Write it."

They dragged their tail across the sand with a smug little smirk.  _I don't trust him._

"Why?"

They circled it again in answer.

He huffed and crossed his arms. "But, Canada loves him."

He swiped his tail over the sand, then began writing again.  _Doesn't mean I trust him._

He arched a brow. "What's the reason for that?"

_Like I said._

He shot a flat look up at them. "Tih."

 _Australia_ , they wrote back.

"Don't make Canada feel any worse than he already does."

_I protect him._

"Mexico wouldn't hurt him."

_Not while we're looking._

Australia opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out.

_So you agree._

He bit his lip before going quiet for a moment before shaking his head and continuing with his argument. "Not yet, no."

_Not YET._

He turned away and crossed his arms. "I will believe it when I see it."

_Then go look at Canada._

"Fine." He walked off toward the pool, diving in to go find Canada.

When Australia came back, Tih had woven themself into a small donut, staring down at him.

"So... do you know where those markings are from? Because, I do."

They nodded, their movement short.

"Then why are you worried?"

They picked up their tail to start writing again.  _It could escalate._

Australia threw up his hands. "He  _wanted_ it."

_It could escalate._

"You really don't think he would, right?" His resolve began to shake a bit.

_It doesn't matter what I think. It could still happen._

"He wouldn't."

_You don't know that._

"Fine. Then you talk to Canada. Fine? Are we done?"

_No._

He deadpanned. "Why not?"

_He will get defensive and then paranoid and then want to leave Mexico._

"Isn't that what you want?"

 _He is..._  they hesitated before continuing,  _currently happy._

"And if it goes bad, won't you feel guilty?" He took a step closer, narrowing his eyes up at them.

 _Why are you trying to_ \- they smacked their tail down against the sand with a frustrated puff of smoke.

"Because I don't know what to do!" He stamped his foot down into the sand, causing it to spray in every direction.

They huffed and curled into themself.

Australia sighed and brushed himself off. "I'm sorry."

They shook their head, grabbing his shirt by their teeth, then resting him back down next to their neck, closing their golden eyes as he sat against them.

"I really do hope he doesn't hurt Canada," he muttered.

They gave a short nod, then nuzzled his cheek as they tried to cuddle him close, wings fluttering and settling around him as some sort of blanket, to which he closed his eyes in comfort and laid down with them.

"Canada loves you a lot too."

They gave a low rumbling noise, curling around him in answer. He started to doze soon enough, resting a hand on their side. Once they felt Australia fall asleep on them, they rested him in his sleeping quarters before moving to Canada's, shrinking in size and curling into a small ring in front of Canada to protect him during the night, watching around him like a little guard dog.

Canada work up hours later, groaning and trying to sit up, though ultimately failing, to which Tih helped him up by using their head under his back and shoulder.

"I'm so glad I have you, Tih." Canada nuzzled into them.

They nuzzled him back, fluttering their wings.  _I love you._

"I love you too."

They nuzzled his neck. _Do you... are you okay with Mexico? Do you feel safe around him?_

"Of course." Canada looked down at them. "Why would I not?"

Tih shifted.  _I don't know. I'm just... concerned._

"Why?" He nuzzled close.

_I don't want Mexico to be able to hurt you if that's what he's trying to do._

"Tih-"

_I don't want you getting hurt again. I want to protect you this time._

He sighed and traced along their wings. "That wasn't your fault, Tih. That was years ago."

_I don't care. I still feel the need to protect you._

"Mexico  won't hurt me, Tih. That's like someone saying you'll kill me because you're a dragon."

They huffed and curled around in his lap. _If you really feel that safe around him, I won't stop you._

"... If you really don't want me to-"

I trust you, Canada. If you feel that way, then you have the right to feel that way.

He smiled and kissed their nose. "Thank you, but I want you to approve of him too."

_I think I will eventually._

"Good." He wrapped his arms around them. "I love you."

They purred as they curled around him.  _I love you too._

He sighed and curled close.

_... Mexico is watching, you know._

"... What?"

_The pool._

He carefully twisted around. "Darling?"

As Tih said, Mexico swam around in the little pool in the corner of the room. The moment he heard his name, he snapped out of his trance and looked up at Canada. "Hm?"

Canada sighed and shook his head, pulling Tih's wing over himself like a blanket, making Tih look all smug.

Mexico arched a brow. "Is something wrong?"

Canada shook his head and closed his eyes.

Mexico sighed and went back to staring at the wall. "Are you going to fall asleep again?"

"Mmmmmmm," came Canada's very intelligent response.

Mexico chuckled, then looked up at Tih. "May I?"

They stared down at Mexico before finally relenting, uncurling from around Canada so Mexico could settle down.

 _Thank you, Tih._ Canada smiled and happily and made grabby hands for Mexico as he made his way over, then curled into his arms.

"Are you having trouble sleeping?" Mexico pressed a soft kiss to Canada's lips. "Or do you just want company?"

He hummed and laid his head on his chest, falling asleep not even five minutes later with a quaint little smile.

"... I know you don't trust me," Mexico started as he looked up at Tih, "but I only want what's best for Canada. I want him to be happy, and successful, and help him on his way to Paradise."

They stared down at him, their wings flapping around a bit before setting their head down on the bed, hopefully signaling his content - or disdain - they felt from his comment. Mexico took it as a sign to shut himself up, laying down around Canada and forcing himself to fall asleep as well.

About three days later, after the two had traveled back to the town for more supplies, Canada and Mexico sat at the edge of the dock, kicking their feet and staring out toward the sunset in a comforting quiet.

Mexico broke it first. "I have a question. I hope it isn't too invasive."

"Of course." Canada didn't even look up, not minding as he kicked at the surface of the sea.

"Your... scars. Why do you have them?"

Canada stopped mid-kick, looking back over at Mexico. "Why do you ask?"

"I..." Mexico bit his lip, "I was curious."

"It's my family insignia." He tugged off his gloves and held out his hands, showing off the intricate dragon symbol upon his palms.

He took hold of his hands. "Was it... burned on?" He looked up at him.

He nodded. "My mother did it."

He rested his hands on top of his. "Oh, I'm so sorry."

He shrugged. "It's alright. It was my fault."

"A parent doesn't have the right to burn you."

"And I shouldn't have let Tih get hurt so much."

 _It was not only you_ , Tih chimed in from his little spot on Canada's shoulder.

Canada shrugged. "Not like it matters much anymore."

"Of course it does." Mexico pulled Canada close to his chest.

Canada rubbed his face into Mexico's chest. "Why's that?"

"You are not the only one at fault." Mexico took hold of Canada's hand, staring back out toward the orange sky and sea.

"I suppose," Canada muttered.

Mexico looked down at him, a twinkle of worry in his only remaining eye. "I love you. You know that, right?"

"Of course." Canada squeezed Mexico's hand. "And I love you too."

...

"Darling?" Canada poked his head into kitchen, watching Mexico clean up after the kids after supper.

Mexico hummed in question as he set the dishes in the sink.

"We found the location of the key." Canada laid his head against the carved stone threshold.

Mexico blinked in surprise and looked back at Canada. "Really?"

Canada nodded with a grin. "Legend has it that the key is guarded by a fearsome dragon." He wrapped his arms around Mexico and rested his head against the back of his shoulder.

"Is that so? What kind?"

"A glass dragon."

"Glass?" Mexico angled his head back. "Can't be that bad."

"You'd be surprised." Canada kissed Mexico's nose, smiling as he held Mexico's hand.

"How is that?" Mexico squeezed Canada's hand in return.

"They're quite nimble." Canada nuzzled into Mexico's back.

"Oh? And what do they do?"

"They're able to camouflage themselves very well."

"That sounds interesting. I'm not sure how you would do that when you're made of glass."

"Well, they are pretty see-through in some places." Canada picked his head up and looked up at Mexico. "Will you come with us?"

"If you will have me." Mexico smiled.

Canada nodded and pulled away. "I have to go get some things ready. Meet me on the boat, alright?"

"Of course." Mexico walked back to the pool and dove into it, his forest tail forming back the deeper he dove.

Canada watched after him with a little smile. "I love you."

About a half an hour later, Mexico poked his head out of the water next to the boat, watching Canada put down the last wooden crate for Tih to put below deck.

"Ready to go?" Mexico rested his chin on his arms, which laid on the deck.

Canada looked down. "Ready when you are. Tih?"

Tih popped their head up from their tank box below deck.  _Is he here?_

"Yup!"

Tih slid back into their box.  _I've got the map at the ready. Just tell me where to go, and I'll be here for you._

"Oh, right." Canada rushed to the front wheel as Mexico waddled over to the deck next to Canada. "They say it's South of here."

_Who's they? Can we trust them?_

"Yes, yes, we can trust them."

_Alright, makes sense._

"Yup." He waved a hand and the sails lowered for him, Mexico looking up with interest in his eye.

_I assume I'm guiding you?_

"As always."

_Yes sir._

With a final flick of Canada's wrist, the boat lurched and dragged through the water. Canada took out his compass and set it down in the little pocket next to the wheel, which he used to travel Southbound along the tropical aqua waters, which quickly turned into a deep navy blue the further they slid away from the waters of the islands behind them. They rode through the night and into early morning the next day, the sun peeking out to the left of them. Through the mists, they saw a cliff face nestled just inside with a gaping mouth of a cave to one side.

"They say the dragon's lair is an old volcano it was forged in. No one's made it out alive," Canada muttered.

_Then we'll be the first._

"You're right." He looked back at Mexico, who kept watch. "Ready to go in?"

Mexico gave a short nod and dove into the water, swimming toward the interior of the cave.

Canada hopped off and landed on the rocks near the entrance where Mexico waited, Tih slithering in next to him. "Shall we go in now?"

"Lead the way." Mexico gestured for him to go in.

Canada reached into the pouch around his belt and grabbed a handful of dust within it, then blew it into the cave, causing the dust to form together into glowing butterflies which flew down the rock-way. The three of them followed the bright gold butterflies deep into the never-ending tunnel, wondering if they could find an interior at all.

"Canada, do you know where we're going?" Mexico blinked, the stone within his eye faintly glowing in the dim light.

"I do." Canada kept staring forward.

_No you don't._

"Shut up."

"... It was just a simple question."

Canada flinched. "O-Oh, sorry, not you. I was talking to my bratty dragon."

Tih smacked Canada's hand with their tail in protest.

Canada giggled and kept walking with them down the forever cave in the dark. The three fell into a relative quiet, but Tih became a bit more agitated the further they went.

_I smell something wrong._

"What is it?" Canada looked over at them. "Do you think we're getting close?"

Tih puffed out a few tendrils of smoke and growled the further down the cave they all slithered.

Out of nowhere, the butterfly lights suddenly dropped in through the stony ground, leaving them in total darkness with only Mexico's stone eye giving off any indication of light.

Mexico's voice poked out from within the abyss. "Did your magic spell stop?"

"Uh, no. They aren't supposed to stop until they find a source of light." Canada frowned.

"Is it some sort of magic spell? An incantation?"

"I don't know. Tih? Does it smell like magic to you?"

Tih snorted and shifted ahead of them. They sniffed it a few times, then growled and slithered around more in agitation.  _I don't like it._

"Is it dangerous?"

_The smell is stronger._

"Is it like a dragon?" Canada reached out and felt Tih's familiar, smooth scales sliding beneath his hand.

They growled deeper.  _A dragon. I have never smelled this kind of dragon before._

"Well, that's a good sign, right? Now we just have to get down there." Canada smiled. "If only we could see. Do you know if there is a way down into the ground? I didn't see where the butterflies went."

_I will attempt going through the floor._

"Please be careful." Canada leaned forward and pressed a light kiss to the scales, then hesitantly lifted his hand off the comforting smoothness, leaving him completely alone with nothing to hold onto. Well, almost anything.

_I will._

He heard more shifting, which moved further and further away before it suddenly stopped.

"... Tih?" he called.

"What happened?" Canada saw Mexico's turquoise gem approach him and stop by his side, then he felt a warm hand touch his shoulder. "Is Tih alright?"

Canada leaned into Mexico's arms. "I... I don't know. Tih? Are you there? Tih?"

_Calm yourself, I'm right here. It's safe. I will light the way for you._

A sudden flame shot up from the ground and blasted against the ceiling, causing a dim, flickering glow to barely illuminate the outline of a hole in the ground.

Canada looked over at Mexico, giving him the brightest little smile. "Come on, we must be nearly there!"

Mexico nodded. "Lead the way."

Canada took hold of the hand still on his shoulder and dragged Mexico to the hole in the ground, but didn't jump in quite yet. "Uh, Tih? Is it safe?"

_I will catch you. My body will cushion your fall._

Canada nodded and looked back at Mexico. "You should go first."

Mexico looked down at the deep blackness leading downward, swallowing hard before jumping down, followed by two different yelps.

_Ow. He's huge._

Canada giggled and stepped closer to the edge. "Should I come down?"

_Give me a second. I have to catch my breath after being crushed._

He giggled more and waited for Tih's signal, then swooped down and slid along Tih's back with practiced ease. When he looked up, his eyes immediately burned. He hissed and covered them from the assaulting light surrounding him.

"Too bright. Too bright. Ow."

He felt a hand on his shoulder. "It'll take a second. Look where we are," Mexico muttered to him.

He hesitated before opening his eyes, squinting at first, then slowly adjusting so he could look around.

He found himself at the edge of a circular cavern which opened straight up into the sky. The rock surrounded him like some sort of black rock jar, towering up higher and higher with the sandy ground warmed beneath his feet. The sky skewed this way and that from what looked like melted and warped crystalline glass. The ground around them had all kinds of delicate glassware, foliage of cobalt blue flowers and light blue vines filled the enclosure, standing out against the deep black of the volcanic rock and the peachy tan of the sand.

"... Wow," he breathed, his eyes wide with wonder and amazement as he stepped further into the enclosure. He knelt down to one of the flowers, touching the glowing blue flower petals and marveling at the soft edges. He looked over at Mexico and Tih with an unrivaled giddiness, too busy engulfing in the beauty to see the shifting around on the glass above him. "C'mon, darling! It's gorgeous in here!"

Mexico had his eye on Canada like in a trance, then suddenly snapped out of it and slapped his cheeks, putting on a smile before walking in. Tih, however, stayed by the entrance, curled up into themself and growling around at everything.

"The dragon must be beautiful, Tih! Maybe we can bring them to Paradise with us! When we get there, of course." He wandered through the glass flower field and touching all the flowers and vines he could.

Tih suddenly began growling and slithered up to Canada, curling around him to protect him as they watched the ceiling, Mexico looking a bit spooked as well.

"Easy," Canada muttered as he patted Tih's side. "Hello!" He waved to the ceiling with a bright smile.

The glass stayed silent, unchanging.

"Canada, I don't-" Mexico shook his head, blinking a few times to get the enchanted look off his face- "I don't think we should keep talking to the ceilings."

"The dragon is here!" Canada gestured to the ceiling as Tih growled in discomfort. "They're magnificent. They can hide so well. We don't mean any harm!" he called to the ceiling, hoping to catch the attention of the dragon.

"Canada, please. For all we know, it could just be a trap."

"I doubt it's a trap. Besides, we can get out if it comes down to it." Canada grinned back at Mexico.

Mexico swallowed hard, shifting a bit. "Right."

Canada rested a hand on Mexico's shoulder. "We'll get out of this. I know we will."

 _The smell is coming from somewhere else in here. It's strong._  Tih growled and curled tighter around Canada, wings puffing out in a sign of defense and intimidation.  _I don't know where it is._

"Do you need something to help?"

 _No, I have it._ They picked their head up higher.  _This way._ They led the way, then stopped and looked back toward the ceiling.  _It's back up there._

Canada nodded and shrugged off his coat, then dropped his weapons to the ground and spread out his hands in the middle of the room. "We mean no harm, dragon." He spun in a circle, trying to spot it.

The glass bristled, though when he looked again, it went back to its original position.

"Canada, don't hurt yourself," Mexico warned.

Tih growled more, swishing the end of their tail.

"They're not going to hurt me, don't worry." Canada climbed on top of Tih, then slowly stood up on top of their snout. "Your home is very beautiful, dragon. We came here for the key, but I will only take it with your permission. I would also like you to come with us."

From behind, a low hissing penetrated the silence and, within just a half a second, blue-white, glowing vines snapped around Tih's neck and forced them to the ground, digging into their neck and pinning them there. Tih screeched and flailed their body and wings, squirming as much as they could, then froze as the vines' thorns dug into the front of their throat.

Canada swallowed hard, using every ounce of strength not to move or shout as he looked toward the source. At the end of the vines stood a dragon of glittering glass wings, tail, and horns decorated with brilliant blue roses, its forearms armored with glistening silver and shimmering sapphire which dotted the front of the bands. Their body looked like the ocean on a clear, sunny day, their back and stomach crested with silver plating.

Mexico snapped his head toward Canada. "Canada, please-"

Canada held up a hand to silence Mexico, then slowly swiveled his body toward the direction, careful not to make any sudden movements. "Please, do not hurt them. They are my dearest friends. My family. My name is Canada. Most call me The Harbinger. This is Mexico, a siren and my love, and Tih, my other half. We are honored to meet you." He lowered the top half of his body as a slow bow.

The dragon stalked down from the ceiling, clawing down the volcanic rock before clawing toward him through the sand. It came closer and closer until its face stood mere inches away from Canada, their bright golden eyes larger than Canada's own head as they peered down at him, wings towering and reaching out past what Canada could see in his peripheral.

"You're gorgeous," Canada whispered, tentatively reaching up a hand and reaching down to brush along the smooth, leather-like surface of the dragon's skin.

The dragon made a sudden move, stopping Canada's movements for a moment, but after waiting a moment for the dragon to become more relaxed, reached out to touch the dragon again, a soft smile gracing his face as he heard a powerful chuff in delight, then lean into his hand.

"Could you please let my family go?" He reached up a bit farther on the dragon's head and scratched under a scale.

The vines around Tih's neck dropped to the ground on command as the dragon's eyes closed, enjoying the attention they received.

"Thank you, friend." He touched his forehead to theirs.

They made another low sound, their wings ruffling with an eerie ring like wind blowing past a glass before resting back again.

"May I ask for the key?" He traced along the dragon's jaw.

They pawed at the ground, their wings settling.

"Hm?" He looked down.

They pawed at the ground again, backing away a few steps. Just in case, he did the same, stepping away from the middle of the room, which had nothing but sand. The dragon leaned down and opened their massive, delicate jaws, some sort of soft blue and light green mist falling from their teeth and onto the ground. Small runes formed within the sand, and the ground began to split, sliding away to reveal a chamber with a floating glass key locked away within a prism, reflecting a rainbow of light when the sun glistened down upon it through the warped, sea-like glass above. He watched as the dragon hopped down and curled around the key, taking the key from its place, then flying up and delicately landing in front of him, offering the key. He reached up with a small smile, watching as the key fell from the dragon's mouth and into his hand, glistening in the light around them.

He pressed the key to his chest and stared into the golden eyes above him. "You are free to come with us. We have room on our ship for many." He held out one of his hands and scratched their jaw again.

They leaned into him, making another sound and ruffling their wings and kneeling down in front of him.

He smiled and brushed along the side of their face, then turned back. "Tih?"

Tih looked up from their space on the floor, head picking up off the floor.

"Ready to go?"

They nodded and pushed themself up.

"Mexico?"

Mexico nodded as well, standing next to Tih.

Canada looked back up at the glass dragon. "Is there any way you can help us up to the surface? I'm not sure if the tunnels would be safe for someone as fragile and fair as you." He brushed his finger over the smooth, glass scales dotting their soft leather skin.

The dragon cooed before stepping back and angling their head toward the ceiling, blowing a jet of some sort of see-through magma, no doubt some form of melted glass which they shot into the glass ceiling, leaving a hole there with a small drip of bright orange, molten glass dripping from the bottom surface. The dragon then went up and spread its blue mist over the surface, crystallizing it in mere moments.

Canada turned toward Tih, who already laid down for him with Mexico staring off toward the ceiling, a confused frown on his face.

"Is something wrong, darling? Did you get hurt?" Canada took his place in front of Mexico on Tih's back, who immediately took off into the sky. When the three of them got far enough away, the opening in the glass turned to a molten orange before hardening back into glass.

Mexico jolted out of his thoughts, looking over at Canda for a few moments before shaking his head, threads of turquoise snaking down from his eye, to his hands. "N-No. No. I wasn't hurt."

"Are you sure?" Canada held out his hands for Mexico's.

Mexico nodded and held Canada's hand. "I... I'm sure."

"As long as you're sure." Canada gave Mexico a brilliant smile. "We did it, darling."

Mexico smiled back, his chrysocolla shifting and glittering. "We did it."

Tih settled down on the top of the rocks, watching the glass dragon crawl down the volcano's outer wall, disappearing only a few feet in front of them. They tried following, carefully slithering after to try and see through the mist around them.

"I love you." Canada murmured to Mexico, smiling as he leaned up and kissed him. "So much."

"I... I love you too." Mexico smiled back and held Canada's hand.

"I didn't think you would." Canada rested his head on Mexico's shoulder.

"If I didn't, that would be a grave mistake." Mexico kissed Canada's cheeks, holding him close.

The glass dragon stood upon the sandy ground of the beach, looking out toward the black shape lurking in the mist. Tih followed after, making some sort of noise before taking the lead, flapping their wings and flying to the ship with the glass dragon calling out and following after them, landing upon the black wood and curling up on the deck, yawning before setting their head down as Tih did the same, letting Canada and Mexico down.

"Are you feeling better? Now that we have the key?" Mexico held out his hand for Canada so he could get down more safely.

Canada nodded, holding Mexico's hand and jumping down as he held onto the key as tight as he could. "I do. This is just one step closer to getting to Paradise." He smiled and laid his head on Mexico's chest

Mexico couldn't help but smile back, nuzzling Canada's cheek before pulling away. "Come on. Let's get back. I think I had enough of being out in the weather."

"Let's head back." Canada playfully bit on Mexico's neck, then danced his way up to the wheel, leaving Mexico stunned to silence, his cheeks lit up a soft pink.

...

Mexico struggled to keep upright as the sea tossed the ship this way and that, lightning booming in the angry sky above them as they crashed into wave after wave. "Are you sure this is the way to Paradise!?"

"Of course." Aeron had rigged himself to the platform below him, struggling to steer the ship as he dug his nails into the wheel. "The key went this way!"

"This doesn't seem-" Mexico grunted as they hit another wave, making him trip, falling back to the wood of the mast- "like this is it at all!"

"Give us a bit!" Canada gripped harder at the wheel as another wave crashed down, soaking him and trying to drag him into the depths if he didn't hold on tight enough. "Tih! How's it looking?!"

_We're almost there. Just a little longer. The key is glowing and vibrating all over the place._

"We're fine!" Canada shouted back to Mexico.

Mexico coughed and sputtered from the sudden assault of salt water, picking himself up as the water reacted with his legs, leaving him with only his forest tail. Lightning crashed down into the middle of the ship, an explosion shooting through the air as the smell of burning wood came from below deck. Mexico tried to squirm away from the middle of the boat, gasping for some sort of breath, then gaining some relief when a wave crashed in and sprayed over him.

"CANADA!!!"

"We're fine!" Canada swallowed hard. "Tih?"

_Just a little longer..._

"We don't have that much time!"

"Just a bit longer!"

"Can-"

_There it is!_

Almost as though flipped on a dime, they floated in the middle of cyan, crystal clear, calm waters, the sky above dusted with tufts of white and the warm, bright sun. In front of them peeked a pristine, pearly white beach lined with trees from the sea, and further back, a single mountain spiraled high into the sky like a pillar, a mountain range surrounding it across the back and taking up the entire horizon. In the middle of the ocean in front of the island - or maybe giant landmass? - floated another, much smaller island holding a light tower, shooting off a soft purple light into the sky. All around, far into the distance on either side surrounding the new lands, there shot out three more beams of purple light. Everywhere they looked, just outside the borders of the lands, the seas raged and the storms festered, the clouds forming a perfect cylinder around them.

"...ada."

_We're here!_

Canada couldn't believe it. His entire life finally manifested itself in front of his very eyes. He fell to the ground, shaking with leftover adrenaline and overwhelming joy, the ropes tying him to the wheel falling away. He felt tears fly down his face, unable to wipe the permanent grin now stretching his lips. "We made it."

He heard footsteps behind him- or maybe arms dragging up a body - and felt a hand rest on his shoulder. "We did it," Mexico whispered.

Canada sniffled, shakily wiping his face free of tears. "Can we make it to the main island? I-I heard you say we have a fire problem."

Mexico nodded. "The fire stopped the second we sailed through the barrier. We can make it."

Canada looked back to see Tih slithering out from below deck, holding the map and the key - which now looked like some sort of crystal pen - between their teeth as they flew up.  _We did it! I can't believe it!_

Canada stared out at the new, untamed lands in front of him, holding one of the pegs of his wheel. "We're finally here. After all these years." He looked down when Tih rested the map and key pen on his lap and took it up, staring down at, instead of the worldwide map, an entire encapsulation of the lands of Paradise, a place only heard of in fairy tales his mother told him. It was real. He was here. He finally did it.

 _All we have to do is get right on the beach. It says there's a dock._ They curled around him. _We made it._

"We did it, Tih." He kissed their nose before slowly standing up to steer whatever remainders of ship they still stood on.

Mexico stared off into the horizon, right up to the giant tower of a mountain standing proud in the middle of the island. "Wow..."

Tih perched at the bow of the ship, their tail wrapping around the tip of the bowsprit and roaring into the sky.

"We made it, darling." Canada laid his head on Mexico's shoulder.

"It's beautiful," Mexico whispered.

The second Canada threw the anchor down next to the dock, Tih grabbed both him and Mexico, throwing both on their back taking off in the air toward the spire mountain, growing in size to accommodate for the passengers.  _There looks like there's a lot of buildings down there._ They looked down at the beach just beyond the dock in the trees, then looked up at the mountain once more.  _I also see a castle on the mountain. Are we taking it?_

Canada bit his lip. "Are we the first here?" He looked down at the map, which the pen began filling in the further into the island they went. Colors, lines, homes, forests, deserts, mountains, seas, lakes, everything.

_From what I see, no one else is here._

He tilted his head to the side. "Really?" He put the pen and map into his bag as it finished filling in, resting a hand over it for safe keeping.

_Really. There is no one else here._

He brightened up with a grin. "Then do we rule here?"

_Well, yeah. Isn't that how the legend goes?_

He nodded, practically bouncing in place. "We can bring all the magical creatures here and this way they can be happy and-"

Mexico took hold of his hand from behind, chuckling. "Calm down, we'll get there eventually. For now, let's just focus on getting moved in, alright?" He pressed a light kiss to Canada's cheek.

_As much as I hate to admit it, Mexico's right._

He nodded, hugging Mexico tight, then pulling Mexico into a soft kiss as Tih landed on one of the 'runways' of the castle - a long stretch of road reaching out to a floating island next to the castle's side, filled with soft grass on either side of the end of the road. They touched down and stared out at the lands they now ruled, stunned into silence and amazement.

"So, where do we s-"

"Hello."

"¡Jesucristo!" Mexico jolted back and pressed himself to Tih's neck, looking down at a woman with chocolate brown skin and warm golden eyes. "So we're... not the first here?"

The woman giggled and looked over at Canada, who looked just as spooked as Mexico. "My, I'm surprised you don't remember me."

"What- Oh." The color drained from his face and his fingers twitched as if he didn't know what to do. "Ma, I-"

"Oh, no, don't worry about it." She rested her hands on his shoulders. "Look how big you've grown. Oh," she squeezed him close, "I missed you." She then pulled Tih close, who purred in content. "I missed the both of you."

Canada wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in her neck. "I'm sorry I left you," he whispered.

"No, no, it's okay!" She pulled away, her eyes sparkling. "I knew I would find someone like the two of you to rule over this place one day. And, here you are!"

He blinked. "You mean-"

"Yes!" She pulled him close, kissing his cheeks. "I'm the Witch of Paradise. Oh, I'm so proud of you. Look at you! You're so grown up, and very professional looking, I must say."

He smiled and rubbed the back of his neck. "I want you to meet someone, Ma." His cheeks dusted pink.

She sighed and kissed his forehead. "Alright, who would you like me to meet?"

He pulled away to take hold of Mexico's hands. "This is Mexico. The love of my life."

"Oh, hello!" She wrapped her arms around Mexico, making him blink and stare around as though he didn't know what to do. "It's so nice to meet you. You seem like such a nice man."

"He's wonderful." Canada squeezed Mexico's hand, trying to keep the grin off his face.

"And wow, he a handsome man right there ooh." She stepped back, brushing off his suit. "Just look at him. He could melt a popsicle with how handsome he is."

"Gods, don't I know it." Canada sighed. "And Mexico, this is Ma. Not my original mother. She took Tih and I in when we ran away."

Mexico cleared his throat, blinking a few times before finally acting, giving her a bow. "It's nice to-"

"Oh, none of that." She waved Mexico off, pushing him back up. "Stand up, stand. I don't wanna have you think I'm some princess, I'm just your mother."

Mexico blinked again. "What?"

Canada only grinned and wrapped an arm around her waist. "Ma, I need your opinion on something. Two things, actually."

"Of course!" She kissed his cheek. "What is it?"

"Let's talk out of earshot, hm?"

"Oh, of course." She nuzzled his cheek, pulling him away.

They walked to the far end of the runway before Canada felt comfortable enough to speak, starting with a preparational sigh. "I... I'm thinking of proposing."

"Oh, my baby, that's great news!" She hugged him close. "When?"

"Soon. Once I get my kids here."

"You have kids too? Ooooh, he must be a good man."

"He's amazing." Canada flushed with a tiny smile.

She sighed and held him close. "You do whatever you think is right."

He hugged her tight. "I'm planning on having this place be a safe haven for all magical creatures."

"That sounds like a wonderful idea." She squeezed him close. "You'll do amazing."

"You think so?"

"I know so. You got this far, haven't you?"

He chuckled. "I guess you're right."

"Then I'm sure you'll do just fine." She played with his hair, giving him a bright, warm smile. "Now go on, tell me when you're proposing!"

"I was thinking of today actually. If we... made it here, I was going to propose."

She sighed and pressed a kiss to his cheeks. "I'm so happy for you."

"I'm happy you're here."

She pressed a kiss to his forehead. "Do you want me to help you have a safe way home?"

"And back, if you don't mind." He paused. "I... don't have a ship."

"Yes you do, it's down there."

"But didn't it..." as he turned to his ship, he saw it restored back to its original glory. No holes, no fading paint, no scratches, nothing but a pure black boat with blinding white sails. "... Oh."

"Like it?"

He nodded, squeezing her hand. "Thank you."

"Oh, anything for my son!" She smiled, kissing his cheek. "I can't wait to see my grandbabies."

"You're going to love them. I rescued them from their parents." He started walking back to the others with her

"I'm so proud of you." She squished his cheek.

He laughed and kissed her forehead. "I'll see you soon."

"Good. And I'll make sure my grandbabies are extra fed."

"Don't make them too fat now. They may be future pirates."

She sighed, waving him off. "Alright, alright, I won't."

He kissed her cheek before walking back to Mexico.

"So, I take it it went well?" Mexico looked down at Canada

_Really well?_

He nodded. "Mexico, could I talk to you?"

_Wow, you're actually going to do it._

Mexico blinked, then gave a short nod. "Alright."

"Don't worry, my babies, I'll get the island ready for all the sea creatures, Alright?" With that, Ma walked off with Tih following behind.

Canada took Mexico's hands, giving him a very anxious smile. "How do you like it here so far?"

Mexico looked up and around at the sky. "It's amazing. It's so... quiet. And gorgeous. Absolutely gorgeous." He looked back down at Canada. "Why?"

"Well, I need to talk to you about something very important." Canada smiled up at Mexico.

"Oh?" Mexico held Canada close, running a hand through Canada's hair. "What's that?"

Canada took a soft breath to steady himself, then reached up to the chain around his neck below his shirt, tugging it out to reveal an intricate ring as the pendant, carved with symbols he drew and collected from every single monument and relic he came across deep in the ancient seas. He slipped the ring out of the chain and bit his lip, looking up at him. "Since we're in Paradise now, and finally able to have some peace, I was... I was hoping to ask you to marry me."

Mexico stared down at him, the chrysocolla sparkling and glowing. "Y-You..."

"I-If you'll have me, that is." Canada looked down.

Mexico pulled Canada close and threw him into the air, swirling him around with a bright laugh. "Yes! Of course, a thousand times yes!"

Canada yelped and clutched at Mexico, laughing with joy and relief. "Oh, thank you!"

Mexico coaxed Canada back down, catching him in a kiss with a sigh. Canada kissed back the second their lips connected, wrapping his arms tight around Mexico's neck so he could get closer somehow while Mexico played with his hair.

Mexico pulled away first, kissing Canada's forehead. "I was thinking we could have some fun to celebrate our victory." He traced along Canada's side, kissing along his ear. "Would that be alright with you?"

"That sounds wonderful. Should I have Tih go and retrieve the others?"

"If you'd like. It would give us more time to stay together alone." He moved his hands down to rest on Canada's lower back. "I've been dying for some alone time."

He made a small noise, pressing closer. "Wait for me in bed, okay? I'll talk to Tih."

He grinned. "If I can find it." He laughed and made his way inside the new castle. "I'll assume it's the one with the balcony!"

He sighed and shook his head with a grin. "Tih?"

They immediately flew toward him, landing by his side.  _Is there something you need?_

"Could you do me a favor?" He brushed along the side of their face.

 _What is it?_  They nuzzled his neck.

He smiled and wrapped his arms around him. "Could you get the rest of our family and have them settle in? Mexico and I-"

 _I know._ They sighed, curled around him and resting their snout against his forehead.  _I... alright. I will._

"Thank you." He placed his hands on their jaw. "Be careful, alright? If I lose you-"

 _You won't lose me. Ma gave me a way back._  They wrapped their wings around him as a sort of hug.  _It's okay, don't worry._

He sighed and nodded, nuzzling their snout. "Be safe."

They gave a short nod.  _I love you..._  they glanced back behind them. _... Dad._

His smile widened and he kissed their nose. "I love you too,  _son_."

They snorted and shook their head, their tail smacking the back of his head before they took off into the sky, darting through the air and right into the storm surrounding them.

"You'll pay for that!" he yelled with a grin.

_I'd like to see you try!_

He laughed and walked inside, finding his way up to the master bedroom. When he got there, he saw Mexico staring out into the horizon as he leaned against the banister of the balcony outside the opening window.

"Hello, darling." Canada came up from behind Mexico and rested his head on Mexico's shoulder.

Mexico rested an arm around Canada's side. "Hello."

"We should rest. How about we go inside?"

Mexico laced their fingers together, following Canada back into the master bedroom and onto the bed, where Canada cuddled into Mexico's chest.

"I love you so much." Mexico murmured, holding Canada close to his chest and tracing along his spine.

Canada leaned up and kissed his cheek. "I love you too."

Mexico looked down at his hand rested on Canada's hip. "You're amazing, you know that?"

"Why do you say that?" Canada closed his eyes as he let Mexico's warmth envelope him.

"You care for everyone you meet." Mexico kissed along Canada's jaw. "I'm just lucky enough to have you all to myself."

"I should say I'm the lucky one." Canada ran a hand through Mexico's hair with a smile.

"For what, a half siren? I'm sure most wouldn't be proud to have something like that unless it were a siren dead on a stick."

Canada shook his head. "I'm lucky to have someone who loves me so much."

"I feel the same. You've been the world to me since you..." Mexico chuckled again, "crashed into my life."

Canada snorted and nuzzled into his neck, laughing a bit. "I love you, Mexico."

"I love you too."

"You feel amazing," Canada mumbled, his eyes closing as sleep came upon him. "Like a blanket. Or a pillow."

"As you've told me before." Mexico winked. "I think it's because I'm magic."

Canada snorted and shook his head. "I suppose it is."

The two settled into silence, the smile on Mexico's face faltering a bit as he tried to think of how to best word his own confession. "Canada, I... I have something that's been bothering me for a while."

"What is it?" Canada cracked open an eye to look up at Mexico, a little, tired smile rested on his lips.

Mexico played with Canada's hair, swallowing hard and looking away. "I've felt guilty about this for a while, and... and I haven't wanted to tell you for fear of... of losing you."

"You know you can tell me anything. Always could, always can." Canada smiled up at Mexico, kissing his chin.

Mexico moved his hand down to hold Canada's own, still unable to look at Canada in he slightest. "I know, I just... I still worry."

"You don't have to." Canada leaned up and nuzzled into Mexico's neck.

Mexico shook his head and took a deep breath. "I... I have to." He pulled Canada closer. "I've been ashamed of it, and have beaten myself up about it for a long time now. And... I need to get it off my chest. I need to tell you it's different now."

Canada nodded, his hand running soft circles into Mexico's stomach as a way to reassure him and keep him more calm. "Take your time."

Mexico squeezed his eye and stone eye shut, then opened them and looked down at Canada. "You know how I'm a siren and I... lure people, correct?"

Canada nodded once more, watching as his finger traced patterns on Mexico's chest, keeping silent so Mexico could speak without any sort of pressure on him.

Mexico held Canada as close as he possibly could, almost as if he tried to hold onto Canada as long as he possibly could before Canada disappeared. Before Canada ran away from him, never to return. "When I was... when I had met you for the first time, my first instinct was... was to try and make you a victim rather than a lover. But, ever since the day I met you - truly met you in that crater with the stained glass dragon in that volcano - I have been smitten ever since. I didn't mean to use you, I... I'm sorry."

"... Oh." Canada went quiet, though Mexico could feel Canada's heart pounding in his chest.

Mexico's grip slowly loosened, like he had accepted that Canada had already made up his mind and chosen to leave. That everything up until this point crumbled to dust. "I'm sorry. I don't want to manipulate you anymore. I don't want to-"

"It's alright, darling." Canada reached up.

"N-No, it's not, and I shouldn't have, and-"

"Well, if you hadn't done that, then we wouldn't be together now." Canada rested a hand upon Mexico's cheek, but the glimmer of pain still twinkled behind his always happy eyes.

Mexico swallowed hard, turning away since he couldn't bear to see Canada like that. "You deserve someone better than me."

Canada took hold of Mexico's chin and tilted his head back. "You're the best I could ever have."

Mexico didn't answer, staring at the floor to the side. "I shouldn't have. I-I-"

"Darling, it's alright. Really. I promise."

Mexico turned his head away and hid his face in his arms, threads of turquoise swirling around his arms and tightening, almost like using it to cut them off, like even his own magic thought his body and mind felt dirty.

Canada reached over and cupped Mexico's face. "I'm still going to marry you, I hope you know. Nothing, come hell or high water, will keep me from doing that."

Mexico stared down at his now completely entangled hands. "I don't deserve it."

"That's not true. You deserve the world."

Mexico shook his head and hid his face further into his arms, not willing to look back up at Canada in his shame. "I-I-"

Canada gently pried his hands away, brushing a hand along his arm and giving Mexico a soft little smile. "I love you."

Mexico stared down at his feet.

"Do you not love me back?" Canada took hold of Mexico's fingers and kissed his knuckles, watching Mexico's eye well up with a tiny touch of tears.

Mexico clutched at Canada's hand. "I-I do. I do so much. But I-I don't-"

"Then that's all I need." Canada kissed Mexico's fingers a few times more. "Only for you to love me back."

"I don't want to hurt you anymore."

"You never hurt me."

"You looked at me with so much pain in your eyes and I-I-"

"Darling, please."

"It's all my fault."

"No, it's not."

"I should have never-"

"Everyone makes mistakes." Canada coaxed Mexico to sit up as he himself did the same, the sheets pooling around his hips as he settled down in front of Mexico, kissing his hands and giving him a smile.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm-"

Canada hushed Mexico and brushed his thumbs over his cheeks. "It's alright." He pressed a light kiss to Mexico's lips, then coaxed Mexico to lay on his back once more so he could rest his head on Mexico's chest.

Mexico hesitated before resting a hand on Canada's side. "I promise I will never leave you, or try to use you."

Canada smiled and kissed Mexico's chest. "And neither will I, Mexico. I'll never leave you."

Mexico looked down. "I... I didn't want any secrets between us if we were really going to move forward with this. I needed to know nothing hid between us, so we both felt comfortable going forward. I hope you understand."

"Of course I understand." Canada gave Mexico a soft smile.

The two settled into a much more awkward silence. Canada could hear, could  _feel_ , Mexico's troubles in his chest, and he had to do something about it. He rested a hand on Mexico's side, looking up at Mexico with the smallest little smile. "I love you."

Mexico looked down, biting his lip. "I-I love you too."

"Sleep, darling. You've earned it." Canada rested the sheets back over the both of them, trying to cuddle up and warm the both of them as the day cooled off with the sunset and eventually twilight. Just for an extra measure, he took hold of Mexico's hand, leaning up and kissing Mexico's cheek before laying back down on his chest again. "I'll be here when you wake."

Mexico nodded slowly, but still looked unconvinced, so he went to brushing his fingers up and down Mexico's arm, which slowly calmed him down, but something still bothered him. 

"What's wrong?" Canada kissed Mexico's cheek.

Mexico looked away. "I don't deserve you."

"That's not true." Canada brushed a few strands of Mexico's hair out of his eyes.

"I tried to use you in the beginning, and I'm a siren, and-"

"It's alright." He smoothed his hands over his cheeks and angled his head back. "It's all in the past."

He leaned into his touch, looking up at him like a lost child. "I'm sorry. I don't want to hurt you."

"It's alright. I forgive you." Canada kissed Mexico's nose. "I'm not going to leave you, and I understand. It's alright now."

Mexico buried his face in Canada's shoulder. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I'm sorry I kept this from you. I'm sorry I did this in the first place."

"It's okay, my darling. It's water under the bridge." Canada kissed Mexico's cheek. "I love you."

"I love you too."

It didn't take much at all for Mexico to fall asleep after such a stressful day, but Canada laid awake, staring at the ceiling and tapping his own arm. Once he felt sure Mexico couldn't hear him, and that he had no other option, he reached out to Tih. "Tih?"

_Do you want me to come back?_

"Please."

_Has something gone wrong?_

"Mexico... told me something. I need you."

_... What did he tell you? Did he say no after all?_

"No, He... He said he... used me. In the beginning." He gathered up his nerves so he could keep his voice steady. "I don't really know what he could have used me for, but... he said he used me."

_Is he still using you? Because if so-_

"No. I don't... I don't think so. I don't know." His voice cracked halfway through, rubbing his own arm to comfort himself. "Is it because I'm not good enough?"

_Oh no, you're definitely more than enough. I think it was more because of your powerful status in the pirate world._

He looked up at Mexico's sleeping face, then at the ceiling. "... Oh."

_If he does leave you now, I will be very surprised. Back before, oh yeah, no, I expected him to leave you, but now? He can barely stay ten minutes away from you without worrying._

"A... Alright. Will you still come back?"

_I'm almost here. I have the twins with me. And Ma._

"Thank you."

_No problem._

Canada stared up at the ceiling, consuming himself with his thoughts when, not long later, a shadow passed by the balcony, the sound of flapping wings following with it, signaling Tih's return.

"The hold's big enough for you, you know." Canada rested his head further on Mexico's warm chest.

_I know. I'll just let them run up to you because I'm absolutely sure you're not ready for the amount of screaming the little ones are about to bestow upon you._

He chuckled. "Thank you. I'll try to stop them before they wake Mexico up."

_They're halfway there. And you're welcome._

Canada's smile widened as the twins bounded into the room, jumping into his arms and yelling "Daddy!" at the top of their lungs, Tih slithering behind them and settling in the corner of the room.

"Hello, my loves." Canada nuzzled the giggling children. "You have to be quiet, okay? Papa is sleeping."

The two nodded and snuggled close to Mexico, yawning and cuddling together before instantly falling asleep. Mexico, somehow sensing the new presence, reaching around the little bodies and made a sound in his sleep, holding them both close as well, leaving Canada to curl into Tih and watch the three lay together in peace.

 _Are you feeling better?_  They wrapped around him like a snake protecting its eggs, wings fluttering before settling back down.

He shrugged, wrapped his arms around their neck. "Maybe this was a mistake. What was I thinking? That I deserve someone like him? That someone like him would go for someone like me?"

 _Oh, don't think like that._  They nuzzled his shoulder.  _I would have killed him if I didn't think he actually loved you at this point. You do deserve him. You do deserve love. You do deserve to be happy._

He sighed and nuzzled close. "I love you, Tih."

_Love you too. Now stop worrying, you two are fiancés, you shouldn't be this tense around each other._

He nodded, smiling up at them. They cooed in return and nuzzled his neck, then set him down with Mexico.

_You deserve some sleep. Today was stressful. I think this was all just amplified because of the stress._

He nodded once more, gently pulling away to lie with the twins, though keeping a hand outstretched for Tih, who curled around all four of them, wings resting over them like a cool blanket. Canada, in this new, much cozier position, dozed off, mumbling for Tih to keep him company. Just before he fell asleep, they rested their head on his stomach in answer, purring quietly so he could hold onto their head, keep a weight on him and remind him of where he laid, and how far he had come.

When he woke up, the twins and Tih had disappeared, leaving only Mexico in the dimly lit room changing in front of him, sliding off his shirt to reveal the black tattoo of a trident and a sword held by some sort of feathered serpent. Canada, missing all of the comfort everyone provided, reached for Mexico and whined as he tried to grab for Mexico's arm.

Mexico stopped taking off the rest of his clothes and looked back. "Canada? Are you alright?"

"Come back to bed." Canada made grabby hands for Mexico.

Mexico chuckled and did as told, laying next to him and holding Canada close to him, which Canada responded by snuggling against his chest with a tiny hum.

"Warm."

Mexico took hold of Canada's hand. "Thank you."

After laying next to each other for a while, Canada spoke up again, though he still sounded sleepy. "We need to start bringing others here as soon as possible."

Mexico shifted around to get into a better position to speak. "Alright. How do we do that?"

"We start sailing again. Can't think of how else we would do it."

Mexico chuckled. "I suppose you're right. Now, or...?"

"In a bit." Canada pressed a kiss to Mexico's lips.

Mexico nodded as he rested his head back against the pillows rather than on the bedding. "I apologize for being so emotional yesterday, I-"

"No need." Canada nuzzled into Mexico's cheek.

Mexico and leaned back into Canada, holding his hand. "I love you."

"I love you too." Canada laced their fingers together and kissed his palm. "Ready to go?"

Mexico chuckled. "You still have to bathe. You still smell like ocean."

Canada's cheeks lit up. "That... might be a good idea, wouldn't it?"

Mexico grinned and helped Canada out of bed. "Just a little bit. Go on and bathe yourself. There's a hot spring where you can get your bathing water from further into the castle."

Canada pressed against Mexico's side. "Can you come with me?"

"Alright, I'll come with you." Mexico got up and opened the door, taking him out into the castle.

The two walked down the stone carved halls, figures of dragons and all sorts of ancient creatures lined the walls, almost like kings protecting their lands and castle walls. They all watched their new masters go by, then went back to their first position on the walls and in the pillars of the larger rooms. The closer they got to the interior of the castle, the warmer it became, then as they approached the baths, they saw steam coming from the grande archway, which opened up to a huge spring with light turquoise water.

"You wash yourself here. I'll go and get everything ready for the trip out." Mexico patted Canada's shoulder, then excused himself out of the room.

Canada looked down at the inviting water and stepped into it, the warmth pulling him in from the cold surrounding him. He cuddled himself into the water with a slow sigh, closing his eyes and laying against the polished stone behind his head. He dove into the water and rubbed himself clean, getting off any salt water he felt, and scrubbing himself clean with a soap bar. He then stepped out, drying himself off with a cloth he found next to the archway, then grabbing for the folded clothes Mexico put in for him next to the towel. He buttoned himself up, then slid on his boots before walking outside, where he found Tih perched in a little stable filled with fish meats of all kinds. They slithered over and put down their head for him.

_Mexico is waiting for you by the docks. He is loading the ship with Ma._

"Thank you, Tih." He climbed into them and held their neck as they took off into the sky, then settled down by the ship, where Mexico just came off after loading a crate or three below deck.

"Ready?" Mexico brushed his hands off as he smiled up at Canada.

"As long as you are."

Mexico held out his hand for Canada, who took it and hopped off of Tih, then tried to lace their fingers together, only for Mexico to pull away as he jumped onto the ship.

"Is there something wrong, darling?" Canada rubbed his hand as though trying to simulate Mexico's touch.

"No. No, I'm just... no."

"Darling?"

"It's all good." Mexico gave Canada a small smile.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah." Mexico nuzzled Canada neck.

Canada smiled back. "Alright. Tih?"

 _Ready to get going?_  Tih landed on the ship and looked up toward the storms.

"We are." Canada walked up to the wheel.

_I have the key. Ma said this should stop from the storm trying to harm us._

"Thank you, Tih." He took hold of the wheel and waved his hand, the sails flying open and taking them toward the storm.

"... Where do we start?" Mexico looked up at Canada as Tih slid down below deck.

"Anywhere, really." Canada looked out toward the storm as they got closer.

"Do we want to start the closest or the furthest, or the ones in most danger, or..." Mexico climbed his way up the mast with the rope, staring out at the horizon.

"The ones in most danger would be a good start." Canada straightened the ship.

"Alright." Mexico turned back to the ocean, resting his head on his arms.

_To the South would be best. That's where most of the trafficking operations with mermaids happens. I heard they even have some Hadal mermaids somehow. Not sure how they got them. They're only seen in stories._

"Then let's set sail. We can't have any mermaids, or any other creatures left alone." He looked over at his compass and twisted the boat accordingly.

_Ma said that a stream of calm water and blue skies should form when we get closer. It should take us out of here safely. I hope this works._

"I'm sure that, if Ma made this, we're more than safe. Come on." He grinned, gripping the handles of his wheel tighter in joy and anticipation. "Off we go."

The moment they touched the border of the storm, the sky split and the water calmed, leaving a small pathway for them to follow out to the South.

I assume we're still going South, then?

"Yup." He followed the calm waters and the clear skies into the distance, bypassing the storming waters on either side as Paradise disappeared into the angry storms behind them, as did the small path the further up the trail they followed.

_The map says there are quite a few operations to the South-Southeast in some town. I can't read the name, but I'll give you directions once we get closer. It's a new place, but I doubt we won't be heard of._

"Thank you."

_You're welcome._

"Are we going out to hit some illegal monster rings?" Mexico slid his way down the rope and landed on the floor of the ship. "I would assume so, but where are we going first?"

"Whichever we end up at first." Canada heard footsteps coming toward him from behind as he kept his eyes trained on the horizon.

Canada felt Mexico press a light kiss to the back of his neck. "Promise me you'll be careful when we get there, alright?"

"Always." Canada looked up at Mexico, who smiled back down at him.

"I love you."

Canada smiled back. "I love you too."

"Always?" Mexico took hold of Canada's chin.

"Always." Canada pressed a light kiss to Mexico's cheek, then went back to watching the skyline of the ocean in front of them, sliding past the storm with ease. He felt Mexico rest an arm around his side, then pull him close before resting his chin on the top of his head.

They rode through the seas for hours, Tih occasionally speaking up to provide directions, then going silent again. The closer they got to the bigger city, the more anxious Canada became, gripping onto the wheel as though trying to keep himself steady and concentrate on the small dots now forming in his field of view. They arrived at the city right at sunset the next few days later, the blood red sky shining over the city. People who saw the boat immediately recognized it, shakily giving Canada and Mexico directions to the numerous rings around town, begging him not to hurt them first. Canada, of course, did nothing but smile and thank them before riding off toward the other side of town, which he saw separated into an entirely different island. He took a deep breath to calm his nerves, parking just outside of view of the many different houses, where he could hear shouting, animals crying, and shots firing.

"Ready?" He threw the anchor overboard, going to his quarters and grabbing his weaponry, Mexico coming in and doing the same.

_As I'll ever be._

Mexico nodded and suited himself up, his stone flashing before threads of turquoise wrapped around the blade of his dagger, causing it to glow instead before returning to normal, the threads disappearing as well. "That curse should do well for them."

"Alright." Canada checked his pistol and loaded it up, then slid his sword into its sheath. "Let's go. I don't want to wait for them to find us."

Tih and Mexico both dove into the water, Mexico's tail transforming back into its forest color scheme as they disappeared into the depths toward the loading docks of the main home on the water. Canada jumped off his boat, then stood tall as he walked toward the front door, coat flapping behind him as he kept a hand on his sword. Tih and Mexico laid in wait just below the surface, ready to strike on Canada's command. Canada straightened his face, then knocked on the door three sharp times, winking over at Tih lurking in the water. They nodded back to him, flicking their tail.

_You know the signal._

He smiled and nodded, turning his attention to the door as he heard it open.

A man with an unkempt beard smelling of strong mead and fish stood in front of him, a scowl on his face. "Who goes there?"

"A friend." He tapped the hilt of his sword.

The man looked him up and down. "What kind of friend?"

"A great friend. Not maybe to you, though." In one smooth motion, he drew his sword and pressed it against the man's neck. "So, what'll it be? Your blood now, or you'll let me in and we can go about being good friends?"

He continued to scowl, but put his hands up in answer. "What do you want?"

"I want in. I heard you can make good money here. Though, you don't let many in."

"The rules are always the same. If you know the code, you're in. Can't let you otherwise. Unless you have a high place attached to your name."

"I do, actually. Though, I'm not sure how... widespread my reputation is."

"And your name is...?"

"Canada. The Harbinger."

His face hardened and, with a snap of his fingers, there were three guns pointed at Canada from behind the door. "You dare come here?"

"Why wouldn't I?" He hummed with a nonchalant little smile, pulling his pistol out as well.

"We know you're a monster whisperer. Don't even think about-"

Before he could finish his sentence, Canada slit his throat, watching him choke on his own blood as he fell to the floor. He tsked, wiping his blade against the ground. "Well... that's that. Will you three face the same fate as well?"

A wide array of shots blew towards him, almost like rain pouring down on him as Tih waited for Canada, Tih tail flicking as they growled.

Canada sighed and waited for them to stop firing, flicking his gun around. "I guess that means you're as stupid as the door handler." He raised his coat and, once the shots ceased, took care if the other three as well.

Mexico took his signal and darted through the water.

_Still not giving mine?_

Inside, a few bodies guarding the many tanks near the dock fell into the water, puddles and streaks of blood left behind them, Mexico no doubt behind it all.

"I'm alright for now, Tih, but you can come in for now. I'm all alone-"

A shot rang by his side, his arm bursting with an excruciating, burning pain. He yelped and cradled his arm, snapping his head the other direction and firing at the other man there.

Some other men and women came into the scene, spotting both him and Mexico, who had tried to grab some of the other bodies to drag them back in. The leader shouted for the others to capture both of them, but both attacked with all their might, despite Canada unable to use one arm. Some of them tried to run out the front door to capture his ship, as well as their own, but fell to the jaws of Tih.

_They didn't get very far._

When he saw the group disbanded and dead, he stumbled, clutching at his arm before moving further inside toward Mexico.

_Canada, what's going on? You're in pain, and people are running out._

More shots rang out from all directions around him, shouting and animals crying out chorusing the mini explosions.

"Need you." He grunted, swinging his sword in a wide arc to catch the pirates in it around him.

Another, much louder explosion erupted in the middle of the house, a fire infecting the wood as the animals all dove into the ocean, swimming for Canada's ship as Mexico tried to struggle out of the group's grasp, but they had nearly bested him at this point.

 _I'm here._  Tih rested their head on Canada's shoulder, wrapping their tail around him.

Canada leaned his head on Mexico's side, ignoring his arm for now. "Thank you. Please go help Mexico. I'll be alright for now."

Are you sure you don't want to leave him?

"Of course I don't want to leave him!"

The pirates began shoving Mexico into a wooden crate.

"I'm not leaving him behind!"

 _And I'm not letting you go in after him._  They looked down at his arm.  _You're hurt._

"I'll be fine. Let's  _go_." He rushed toward the group forcing some of the animals which hadn't escaped yet - including a mermaid - into more crates alongside Mexico.

Tih nodded and shot toward the group, hissing with a screech and biting down on one of them, killing them instantly. The group scrambled around, some grabbing for more pistols and firing at Canada while others tried to stab Tih. Tih, however, used themself as a shield, a terrible shriek escaping them as a column of white hot fire burst down upon the group, screams ripping from the bodies stuck in the flames. Canada ran his hand along their side, murmuring apologies before moving around them to kill a few others.

"Keep me covered. I'll get the monsters!"

They shot down the pirates around them to give Canada time.  _I've got them._

He smiled, then jumped down to pop open the crates, humming to himself. In one of the boxes, he heard a few tiny cries, which sounded like the pirates threw a bunch of baby monsters together.

Canada reached for an amulet and set it on the dock, opening a portal to the hull of his ship before opening the box. "Hello."

The tiny monsters all looked up at him, some of them glowing, some of them furry, some of them scaly, some of them even made of rock.

"You're safe now, okay?" He carefully tipped the box toward the portal.

They all waddled, slithered, crawled, and flew into the portal, right onto the beds. He smiled in triumph, then turned toward the box holding Mexico, prying it open to find Mexico curled into a tight ball, barely breathing with needle punctures all along his neck and arms.

"I'm so sorry, darling." He looked over to Tih.

Tih slithered to him, a mermaid unconscious in their mouth as they looked down at Canada.  _We need to go. I think that's everyone._

"Alright." He took Mexico into his arms and set him on Tih's back, trying not to cough from the smoke all around him. "Go. I'll meet you."

They took off towards the ship as he stepped through the portal, grabbing his amulet and snapping it back around his neck while looking over the many creatures now occupying the boat with them. Tih landed on the wood, then slid below deck with the other little ones to set Mexico and the mermaid in their separate tanks before coming back up.

 _You doing okay?_  They nuzzled his cheek.

"I'll be fine." He tugged the coat tighter around himself.

_You took a shot to the arm. At least let Ma look at it._

He waved him off. "I can take care of it. It's just in the arm."

_Don't lie to me._

"I'm not."

_You're wincing and clutching your arm. Of course you're not okay._

He frowned. "Tih-"

_Just go to her. At least do it for me._

He gave a reluctant nod, patting their side before calling for Ma.

She appeared in a splash of ocean water, smiling at him. "Hello my b- Oh no." She took hold of his arm, looking it up and down. "Oh, this looks bad. Russia, my darling, come here!"

"I'm here." A massive mage appeared with another splash of water, his ocean blue eyes glittering with the stone in his staff.

"Ma, I'm fine." Canada looked over at Ma again.

"I know you're better at humans than me." She pulled Russia over, yanking back Canada's clothing to look at his arm as she cleaned it off. "What do you think?"

"He won't die, at least." Russia glanced down, then reached for the air and muttered a few words, the wind carrying him some sort of powder, which he tossed into a bottle and mixed it up.

"And you can repair muscles, can't you?" Ma bit down on her lip, brushing her coily hair back.

"Of course." He watched as the contents of the bottle became a bright blue color before settling to a soft green.

"Good, we need that." She pulled back as Russia came over.

Russia chuckled, muttering something under his breath before the bullet pulled itself out of Canada's arm and the muscle beneath sewed back together. He then poured the bottle over Canada's wound, the liquid glowing, then seeping into his arm. "Don't overexert yourself now."

"I won't." Canada sighed and leaned back.

"We're serious, my baby." She hugged Canada's side. "You shouldn't go on any more crusades for a while unless-"

"Ma, I can't do that." He looked up at her. "You know how many of them are out there that-"

"No no no no, you're on bedrest. Unless you can somehow get Tih to do it themself, then you can't."

"It's just my  _arm_!"

"And we just infused you with magic, which means you can't use your other magic items unless you want it all to cause a reaction which tears you to shreds."

He huffed and crossed his arms. "Fine."

"He's grown up quite a bit since I last saw him." Russia smiled over at her. "How have you been?"

She sighed, nudging his shoulder. "I'm doing just fine. Do you mind helping me with the mermaid? He seems a bit... not-so-well."

"Of course."

"Good good." She pulled him off to the infirmary below deck, which had quite a few monsters in it. One of the mermaids curled into the corner of his tank, his tail scarred and bruised with a few shimmering pearl white and ruby red scales missing.

"... Wow," Russia breathed, staring for a few moments before shaking his head and bending down. "Hello there."

The mermaid slowly blinked and looked up, rubbing his soft pink eyes. "Hello?"

"How are you doing?"

"I'm... confused? Where the hell am I?"

"You're on a boat headed for Paradise."

"Para- What? Isn't that some fantasy or whatever?"

"Nope. A friend of ours found it." He nodded upward toward Canada. "The one who rescued you, his name's Canada, The Harbinger."

"Oh. Well." He curled into a ball, resting his head back against the water. "That's nice, I guess."

"Are you hurting?"

"Oh no, of  _course_ not." He rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. "It's not like I'm bleeding from sixteen different places, of  _course_ I'm not in pain."

He winced. "May I help you?"

He sighed, resting his head in his arms and looking away, tail flicking. "No. I'll... I'll be just fine."

"Please?"

He looked away, curling tighter in on himself. "I-I'm fine."

He made a small noise. "Canada got injured to save you. The least you can do for him is not die."

"I said I'm fine, I don't need anything, just leave me alone." He curled in on himself, flicking his tail back and forth.

"Please? We can help you."

"I-I don't want help, just leave me alone."

"Please-"

"Leave me alone." He curled into the corner of his tank furthest away from Russia, hiding his face.

He watched him for a bit, then stepped away. "Alright." He came back a few moments later with a siren in his arms, this one with a deep black tail with small shimmers of red and gold spots, muttering to him until he saw the mermaid in the tank.

The mermaid hyperventilated as he curled tighter into himself, biting on his arm hard enough to draw blood, which swirled around him in the water.

"Whoa! Hey, hey, easy." Russia rested a hand on the glass of the rather large tank. "Do you want to go back in the ocean?"

He didn't seem to hear, curling into himself as his tail flicked back and forth.

Russia tapped the glass. "Are you-"

"He's having a panic attack," the siren muttered.

He jolted. "H-How do we-"

"I think he might not like humans. Do you have something to change your form?"

"... I have a few potions, but-"

"I think that might work. If not, we can try using me."

"What are you trying to say?"

"Let me into the tank. I think I might have an idea."

"Are you sure, Germany?"

He nodded. "Let me do this. I'll have him out in no time." He grinned.

"I don't..."

"Please let me try." He looked back at  the mermaid. "He may not have much time if we don't do this."

"But-"

"Do you want him to rip off his own arm or not?"

"No, no." He backed away before climbing up to the top of the tank.

"Please hurry. I don't know how long this could take."

Russia made a sound in distress and helped Germany up above the lip of the tank. "I'm going, I'm going."

"Thank you." Germany leaned up and kissed Russia's cheek.

Russia nodded, setting Germany into the water so he could swim in. "Be careful," Russia whispered.

"I will." Germany smiled back at Russia, then swam over to the little mermaid.

The mermaid must have seen Germany coming, because he pressed himself further into the corner of the glass.

"Hey," Germany reached out to touch the mermaid, "it's alright. You're safe now."

The mermaid flinched away, biting down harder on his arm.

Germany took back his hand. "Please, don't hurt yourself."

The mermaid whimpered, curling into himself.

"Can you look at me?" he tried, swimming just a touch closer so the current of his tail brushed over the mermaid's hand.

The mermaid hesitantly looked up at Germany, his eyes glazed with fear.

Germany put on a calm smile. "My name's Germany. I'm a siren that was rescued as well. What's your name?"

The mermaid tried to press himself further into the corner, looking up at Germany.

Germany bit his lip. "No one's going to hurt you here, okay? Do you want to go into the ocean with me?"

The mermaid simply stared at him, slowly releasing his grip on his arm the more he stared.

"Yes? You can swim around if you want. Paradise is huge." Germany smiled. "And gorgeous."

The mermaid slowly shook his head, looking down.

"Alright, that's okay too. Would you like to see the other mermaids?"

The mermaid shook his head again, slowly taking his arm out of his mouth.

"Would you like me to stay here with you?"

The mermaid gave a small, hesitant nod, staring down at the glass floor.

"Alright. Can I help you with your wounds?"

The mermaid looked down at his arm, then back up at Germany before giving a small nod.

"Well... I won't be able to help you. Russia can, though. He's magic." Germany smiled over at Russia on the other side of the infirmary, watching him tend to some of the smaller monsters before looking back at the mermaid.

The mermaid pressed back into the corner again, staring down at the floor.

"No? Alright, I'll call for supplies, then."

The mermaid curled into himself, watching himself clenching and unclenching his hand with tendrils of blood flying into the water before disappearing.

Germany took hold of the mermaid's hands. "Are you uncomfortable with magic?"

The mermaid shook his head, holding onto Germany's hands.

"Alright, then hold still for a second, okay?"

The mermaid gave another hesitant nod.

He ran his hands over his, healing his wounds. "Better?"

The mermaid hesitantly nodded.

"Is there anything else you need?"

The mermaid shook his head, looking away as though ashamed.

"What's wrong?"

The mermaid shrugged, staring down at the glass.

"There's a few lakes here that you could live in. Russia and I plan to live by one."

The mermaid hesitated before finally speaking. "A-Alright."

"Should we move you there now?"

The mermaid shook his head. "N-No. Too much."

"Sure." Germany settled down next to the small mermaid.

The mermaid wrapped his arms around Germany's tail, bringing it close to his chest. "Sorry, I didn't mean to freak out. Again. I should have just-"

"Don't worry, it's alright. We understand."

The mermaid nodded and half hid his face in his tail.

"Please, relax. You're safe here. Wanted here."

"Oh, trust me, I'm wanted. Just not... for a long period of time."

Germany tilted his head to the side, brushing a hand through the little mermaid's hair. "What do you mean?"

"What do you think? I'm a call... boy. I've done nothing but swim around in people's tanks and fuck for... my entire life."

"I was the same way, you know, but for monsters." Germany patted the mermaid's hand. "You don't have to do that anymore."

"Then... what do I do? I have nothing left. I can't go out to the ocean, and I certainly can't go around and be on display for... m-more humans."

"You can stay in Paradise. Live with us. Be happy."

"And do what?" The mermaid looked up. "Just sit in the corner of the lake and bite my arm off? There isn't anything for me anymore. I have nothing."

"Then start a new life. Meet someone. Explore. The lake has many rivers connected to it."

The mermaid stared down at the glass, hiding half his face in Germany's tail again. "I might as well just rot in this glass case. Got nothing else going for me." He looked over. "You seem to have it just fine, though."

"Then come live with us."

The mermaid into Germany's tail. "I-I can't. I don't have the strength to."

"Why's that?"

"I can't be around humans for long periods of time. If I am, I-I-" he flinched- "I just don't."

Germany took the mermaid's hands again. "Alright, I understand."

The mermaid stared down at the ground. "... He seems nice. Really nice."

"He is. He's amazing." Germany looked back over at Russia, smiling as he saw him healing more little monsters.

"I wish I could... I could talk to him without freaking out."

"He understands. It's okay, really."

The mermaid looked up again. "Please tell him I apologize?"

"Of course. I don't think I... ever got your name."

The mermaid bit his lip. "I... don't have one."

Germany hummed and leaned back against the glass. "What would be a good name for you? How about..." he hummed, "Kwait?"

The mermaid snorted. "Flower?"

"Ah, so you know Polish."

"I guess you could say that."

"So, do you like the name?"

"Sure, I guess."

Germany grinned. "Nice to meet you, Kwait."

...

Kwait laid his head against the post of the dock, watching the water shift around with other creatures idly swimming around at their own pace, going about their night alone. He jolted when he heard a familiar muted voice above him on the dock.

"How are you?" Russia sat down on the dock, staring down at Kwait with his chin rested on his arms.

Kwait blinked and swam up to him, taking hold of Russia's hand as he reached out. "I'm alright. Is something on your mind? I thought you were sleeping."

Russia shrugged. "Would you like to sit with me?"

"Sure." Kwait held out both his hands for Russia, letting him pick him up while he closed his eyes, not wanting to look at the wide open space around him. He felt Russia's arms wrap tightly around him, pressing his ear to Russia's chest over his rapidly beating heart.

"Are you sure? Your heartbeat's really high."

"I... just had a dream." Russia ran his hand over Kwait's scales.

Kwait kissed Russia's chest. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"I... don't wish to burden you, Пупс."

"You could never, mój drogi. You're the exact opposite."

Russia bit his lip, hiding his face in Kwait's shoulder. "A... A while ago, it must have been two years, I... I told Germany I loved him for the first time."

"I can tell it didn't really go according to plan." Kwait leaned up and kissed the bottom of Russia's jaw and held his hand.

"That... that night, he went out for a drink and I..." Russia let out a small humorless laugh, "I found him in the middle of three men."

Kwait took hold of Russia's hands, tracing small circles into the backs. "I'm so sorry."

"He was blackout drunk." Russia rested his head on Kwait's shoulder and pulled him closer. "He didn't even remember and I... I never told him. I didn't want him to feel guilty."

Kwait hushed Russia, pressing light kisses all across his face. "It's okay now. It's okay." Kwait held Russia close. "Do you want me to be your vent?"

"I... I don't want you to have to worry."

"I won't." Kwait kissed Russia's cheek. "You're okay. You're allowed to cry. Just let me help you, okay?"

Russia buried his face in Kwait's neck. "It hurt so much. He told me to go home when I found him. I-"

Kwait hushed him and kissed his cheek once more.

"And now the memories have turned into nightmares and-"

"I'm sorry." Kwait caught Russia in a small kiss, then pressed more light butterfly kisses all across Russia's face. "Maybe if you tell him, it will help you feel better. He needs to know it hurt you. He needs to know how much it's affecting you."

"N-No!" Russia gripped onto Kwait's arms, then hesitantly pulled his hands away and rested them down on Kwait's hips again. "I don't want him to feel guilty."

"These nightmare can only get worse." Kwait laid his head on Russia's hair. "You can't keep doing this to yourself. You have to tell him. If you don't, you can't get past this."

"What if we can't?"

"You have to at least try." Kwait kissed his cheek. "I'll be right at your side."

Russia looked down at Kwait with unshed tears, holding Kwait closer.

Kwait pressed a light kiss to Russia's lips, then pulled away and gave Russia a soft smile. "Please wake me up when you have a nightmare. Please let me help you. I want to help you. I want you to have a place you can trust. To feel safe in."

Russia hesitated before nodding, nuzzling into Kwait's neck.

Kwait pressed a light kiss to Russia's cheek. "I love you. I want to give you a place you can feel confident you can say anything without consequence."

Russia nodded once more, kissing Kwait's cheek. "Thank you."

"No need to thank me." Kwait nuzzled Russia's neck.

Russia traced along Kwait's scales. "I... I don't think I have the courage to tell him."

"What you could do," Kwait took hold of Russia's hand, kissing Russia's cheek, "is the two of you are back to back, then you could tell him."

Russia shook his head. "He... I can't."

"Alright." Kwait played with Russia's fingers, giving a small smile. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have pushed you."

"It's alright," Russia mumbled, curling close.

Kwait leaned up and coaxed Russia into another soft kiss, tracing over Russia's cheek. Russia relaxed into Kwait, his arms holding Kwait as close as he could, then pulling back to look at Kwait's soft, smooth face.

"Can I take you home with me?" Russia looked back at the house behind them, then to Kwait again.

"Of course you can." Kwait nuzzled into Russia's chest, his tail flicking around.

Russia stood up and walked toward the house, pushing open the door and closing it behind him. "Can I... ask you something?"

Kwait nodded, pressing kisses all across Russia's face and resting his arms around Russia's neck before finally opening his eyes.

"If I am not able to tell him... will you do it for me?"

"Only when you tell me I should." Kwait kissed Russia's cheek.

Russia hummed and laid Kwait down into the little river flowing through their house, brushing a hand through his hair.

"If you ever need me for anything, I'm here."

"I know you are," Russia muttered, reaching for his shirt and unbuttoning it.

"I love you." Kwait watched him with a soft smile.

"I love you too." Russia settled down on the floor next to Kwait.

Kwait laid his head on Russia's lap. "Would you like to do anything, or do you just want to stay right here?"

"That's up to you." Russia rested a hand on Kwait's shoulder.

"Why me? You're the one that had a nightmare." Kwait pressed a light kiss to Russia's cheek.

"Because I want to do what you want." Russia grinned down at Kwait.

"Yeah, but still." Kwait smiled and kissed Russia's cheek.

Russia sighed. "What are the options?"

"I dunno." He pressed light kisses all across his face. "What do you feel like?"

"Anything."

Kwait hummed in thought, laying his head on Russia's shoulder. "We can eat, swim, watch a... those crazy acting things everyone calls them... plays?... or... try something else."

"Something else?"

Kwait's cheeks lit up. "I-I always wanted to see what it's like to have legs like Germany."

Russia blinked in surprise. "Really?"

Kwait slowly nodded. "Yeah. I also want to... to try getting over my fear of space."

Russia kissed Kwait's cheek. "Only if you want to."

"Do... you have an extra bottle? Do you  _want_  me to have legs?" Kwait held onto Russia's hand.

"Kwait, it doesn't matter if I want to. I have the ingredients, but I'll have to make the potion, alright?"

"O-Okay. Okay. I can wait if you want to do that." Kwait grinned.

Russia brushed a thumb over Kwait's cheek. "I'll be right back, alright?

"May I... come with you?" Kwait leaned into Russia's hand.

"Are you sure?"

Kwait nodded, giving Russia a small smile.

"Alright. Let's go to my workshop." Russia picked Kwait up and held him close, humming to himself as he walked into another room, where he set Kwait down and started getting the potion ready. They stayed in silence for a while, then Russia spoke up again. "How long do you want it to last?"

Kwait looked up at Russia. "Hm? Oh, as long as you want it to last."

Russia hummed and looked down. "How about an hour?"

"That works." Kwait squirmed around in anticipation.

Russia leaned over and kissed Kwait's cheek.  "I love you," he murmured, nuzzling Kwait's neck before pulling away.

"I love you too." Kwait kissed Russia's cheek before he could move far enough away. "So much. I want you to feel safe, feel loved, and feel like you matter."

Russia's hands stopped, putting on a smile. "I already do, my love. You already do so much for me."

"I know, but I want to enforce it." Kwait leaned over and pulled Russia into another soft kiss. "I want you to feel like you have a safe place. A place where you can tell me anything, do anything, feel anything, and there won't be consequences."

Russia bit his lip, then turned back to the "I... I don't deserve this. I've done so much wrong in my past, Пупс, I-"

"We all have, mój drogi." Kwait took hold of one of Russia's hands. "You deserve having a safe place just as much as you say I do. I don't care what you might have done. All I care about is how you are  _now_ , and right now, you're the sweetest, most caring person I've ever met."

Russia squeezed Kwait's hand again. "I-I'm so sorry, Пупс."

"There's no need to be sorry. It's okay. It's all okay. You're safe now." Kwait gave Russia a smile. "There's no council, there's no karma, there's no rings. It's just you, me, and this room. Nothing else can reach us here."

Russia finally looked back at Kwait and took hold of both of Kwait's hands. "I don't deserve you. You suffered so much because of Dealers and I-"

"You do deserve me." Kwait pressed softer, slower kisses to Russia's face. "You deserve me more than you give yourself credit for. You are not one of them anymore. I don't love you any less because of your past. You love me, you care for me, and that's all that matters."

"I-I was one of the ones to-" he swallowed hard and gripped him harder- "how can you forgive me?"

"Because I love you. I love you, mój drogi. You may have been a dealer in the past, but that doesn't mean you haven't changed. That doesn't mean I love you any less. What was in the past was in the past, and let's leave it there. This," He took hold of his hands, looking him in the eye, "is here and now. This is what's the present. This is all that matters."

Russia held Kwait's hands tighter. "I love you."

"I love you too." Kwait's tail brushed along Russia's leg. "I love you more than I can express. I love you, mój drogi."

Russia pulled back and turned to his potion once more, clearing it and perfecting the liquid before looking back at Kwait. "Are you sure want me to use a potion? It can be a bit painful at first, just so you know."

Kwait nodded. "I know. Germany told me it does. Please?"

Russia nodded and popped open the bottle, offering it to Kwait. "Here."

Kwait looked down at it. "What do I... what do I do with it?"

Russia chuckled. "You drink it. It should taste like peppermint, but it tastes different for everyone."

"Uh... okay." Kwait hesitated before tilting his head back and swallowing down the light pink liquid, shuddering. "Wow, that tastes-" he suddenly felt light-headed, grunting as he gripped at Russia's arm, trying to blink the darkness out of his eyes as he whimpered.

"Sorry, Пупс." Russia picked Kwait up and held him close. "Come on, let's try and go get you to bed. Then we can try out your new legs."

Kwait looked down and gasped, poking his legs. "I... I have legs?"

"You have legs." Russia smiled as he set Kwait down on the bed.

"Wow, that's..." Kwait giggled, "it feels weird."

"You think so?" Russia ran a hand over Kwait's leg.

Kwait giggled, kicking his feet a little bit. "It tickles."

Russia's smile widened as he took his hand away. "Alright. Sorry."

"It's okay." Kwait giggled and more and laid his head on Russia's shoulder.

Russia idly ran his hand over Kwait's new legs, humming to Kwait. Kwait snuggled into Russia's side in return, moving his legs around to test them out.

"May I try walking around?" Kwait looked up at Russia.

Russia nodded and stood up, then grabbed Kwait's hands. "I'll be with you every step you take, alright? Don't worry. I'll be here for you."

"Okay." Kwait slowly stood up on shaky legs with Russia, doing his best to keep his balance. "Okay. Okay. Okay."

Russia smiled, helping Kwait by taking one step back. "Use one of your legs to step with me, alright? You'll get used to it."

"O-Okay. Okay." Kwait hesitated before taking a step with Russia.

"There you go. That's it. Just like that." Russia leaned down and kissed Kwait's forehead.

Kwait huffed. "This is so much harder than swimming."

Russia laughed. "Come on. Let's try another step. Alright?"

Kwait followed Russia with one step, then another, then another.

"You're doing great. Would you like me to take away one of my hands?"

Kwait bit down on his lip and made a small sound. "Um... sure."

Russia took away one of his hands from Kwait, laughing when Kwait still clung to his other hand. "It's alright, I'm still here. I promise."

"Okay. Okay. I can do that. Okay." Kwait reluctantly pulled his hand away from Russia's.

"There you go." Russia took another step back. "I'm right here. I'll catch you."

Kwait took steps with him, only stumbling a few times before correcting himself and standing up again. "Okay. I'm okay."

"You're okay. Would you like me to take my other hand away?" Russia smiled at Kwait.

Kwait swallowed hard, then nodded. "Okay. I can do that. Yeah."

Russia took his other hand away. "I'll be here to catch you. Don't worry. I'm here."

Kwait took hesitant steps, wobbling around a few times, but righting himself in the end. He took more steps, grinning as he looked up at Russia. "Look! I did it!"

"You did it." Russia brushed a hand through Kwait's hair. "You walked all the way through the house."

Kwait sighed and curled into Russia's chest. "... Thank you. For that."

"Anything for you." Russia kissed Kwait's forehead.

Kwait looked over at the clock as he nuzzled into Russia's chest. "When do you need to go to the council? I know Love has been there a while."

"When he gets back, I'll leave." Russia looked down. "Could you... tell Germany for me?"

Kwait held Russia's hand. "I will."

"Tell him I love him too. So much."

"Of course I will." Kwait pressed a light kiss to Russia's chin. "He will understand, mój drogi. I promise he will."

Russia nodded and hugged Kwait closer. "I love you."

"I love you too." Russia held onto Kwait's hand.

"You should sleep." Kwait looked up. "You must be tired."

Russia shook his head. "I'm okay for now."

"Are you sure?"

Russia nodded. "I just want to be with you."

Kwait smiled. "Alright."

Germany came home not too long later, poking his head up and out of the water before hoisting himself up, looking inside the ice chest to find something to eat. He heard shaky footsteps come into the kitchen, then grinned as he saw the one walking.

"Hi, Misio."

"Kwait! You're up and around walking!" Germany pushed himself up and hugged Kwait's legs with a smile.

Kwait leaned down and hugged Germany back. "I am! Russia allowed me to do this."

Russia came in as well. "I did. Hello, Лапа." Russia held Kwait close, unable to look Germany in the eye.

"Hello, Russia." Germany smiled. "Is... something wrong?"

Kwait took hold of Germany's hands. "Misio, I have something really important to tell you."

"Of course, you can tell me anything." Germany smiled back at Kwait, then looked up at Russia, who turned away. "Did... something happen?"

Kwait swallowed hard. "Mój drogi has been having nightmares."

Germany's eyes widened, then looked over at Russia. "Russia, what-"

"Misio, it's because of your drinking."

Germany tried to push himself up off the floor and into a chair so he didn't just sit on the floor. "What do you mean? I mean, I'll stop drinking if that stops the nightmares."

"It's not just that." Kwait looked back toward Russia, then to Germany again. "Misio, do you remember the first time mój drogi ever said 'I love you' to you?"

"Of course I do. It was one of the best days of my life." Germany smiled at Russia, who only hid his face. Germany's smile lowered a bit before he turned back to Kwait. "... Why? Did I do something? Do you want me to-"

"Misio..." Kwait took hold of Germany's hands, "Misio, you got drunk that night. You... you disappeared from the house and gave yourself to three people that night."

Germany's face drained of all color, Russia hiding his face and looking away, trying to keep himself from crying. "I-I..." Germany looked over at Russia. "All these years, why didn't you... why didn't you tell me?"

"I deserved it," Russia whispered. "I didn't want you feeling guilty." Russia started for the door. "I have to go." Russia opened the door to disappear outside before anyone could do anything else. Germany could only stare after Russia.

Kwait looked back at Germany. "I'll... I'll go get him, alright?"

Germany pushed himself up, trying to crawl for the water. "No, I can do it-"

"It's alright. I'll bring him back. I have the legs to go after him." Kwait smiled.

"But-"

Kwait kissed Germany's lips. "It's okay. I'll get him in here. Then you two can talk all you want, alright?"

Germany bit down on his lip. "Please be safe," he whispered. "I don't want either of you hurt."

Kwait nodded and walked out the door. "I'll be back."

Kwait then closed it behind him, walking around and calling his name before he found Russia sitting at the edge of the dock again, feet shoved in the water while he stared up at the moon. Kwait swallowed hard, hesitantly lifting up a hand, then resting it on Russia's shoulder.

"... Mój drogi?"

Russia wiped his face, looking down at the lake again. "Sorry."

"Are you alright?" Kwait laced their fingers together.

Russia squeezed Kwait's hand, blinking more tears out of his eyes.

"Did it feel good to finally tell him?" Kwait kissed his cheek.

Russia nodded, wiping his face with his other hand. "Do you think he'll forgive me?"

"For what? Not telling him?" Kwait pressed another kiss to Russia's cheek.

Russia nodded, laying his head on Kwait's.

"I'm sure he already has." Kwait kissed all across Russia's face.

Russia nodded, then slowly pushed himself up and walked into the house. "Okay."

Kwait walked behind him. "Do you want me to leave you two alone?"

"Please." Russia opened the door, then closed it behind him.

Germany looked up. "... Russia?"

Russia walked toward Germany.

"Russia, I'm sorry. I didn't know. I don't know what happened, I-"

Russia hugged Germany close to his chest, brushing his hands through Germany's hair. Germany's hands immediately wrapped around Russia, clinging to him and burying his face in his chest. The two only hugged there in silence, crying without a sound, never pulling away. They stayed like that for a while before Germany pulled back, taking hold of Russia's cheek and kissing him, Russia easing down and kissing back, laying his own hand on top of Germany's.

Germany pulled away a moment later. "I'm sorry."

"It's alright." Russia held his hand. "It's in the past now. All we can do is move forward."

Germany rested a hand on Russia's chest. "I love you."

Russia smiled. "I love you too, Лапа."

A few days later, Kwait took Russia to some sort of cave toward the mountains, calling it a surprise. The closer they got, the more they found blue roses dotting the ground, each of them half see-through. They stepped up to the cave, which looked hollowed out by claws and some sort of melting torch.

"Are you sure it's here?"

Kwait nodded and squeezed his hand. "I'll be outside. Don't worry."

Russia nodded and looked back toward the cave. "Uh... hello?" He saw a figure move around before a dragon stalked over. "Why are we here, Пупс?"

"I asked them a few days ago." Kwait pushed Russia to walk toward the dragon. "They said they'd be willing to help you with your anxieties."

"... I don't need-"

"Yes you do." Kwait held up Russia's wrist, then laid his hand on top of the dragon's snout, which caused them to coo. "This will help you, I promise."

Russia sighed but nodded. "As long as you're sure."

"Maybe you can bond to each other." Kwait put on a bright smile. "Then you can have a best friend - maybe even a sibling - to help you."

"I suppose." Russia moved his hand down to rub the dragon's jaw.

They made a small chuffing sound, leaning into his touch and ruffling their wings with a soft singing sound like wind blowing over glass jars.

"See? You two are good friends already!" Kwait giggled. "I think they like you."

"You think so?" Russia ran a hand over one of its little scales, causing them to coo again.

"Yeah. I do." Kwait kissed his cheek. "This isn't the surprise, though."

Russia looked over. "What?"

"Look." Kwait pointed toward the glowing, rainbow-like rocks in the corner, which twitched and moved around.

Russia blinked. "... Eggs?"

"Well, yes. The dragon wants you to take one." Kwait grinned.

The dragon made a few more sounds, wings flapping before settling down again, pushing Russia over to the little rocks.

"They want you to take the first one that hatches." Kwait grinned wider. "Go on, go. They want you to have the dragon imprint on you."

"A-Are you sure?" Russia turned to the dragon with wide, ocean blue eyes.

The dragon chuffed, the colors shifting and swirling in the glass along their wings.

Russia swallowed and nodded, moving to crouch in front of the eggs.

Not too long later, the rainbow shell lifted up off one of them, a tiny face and the crying of a newborn dragon greeting him. It didn't have much glass except for the sides of its head, and a stubby little tail with a blue rose at the end. It cried and wailed, curling into itself on the rocks and around Russia's feet. Russia brightened and hushed it, lifting it into his arms, slowly swaying with it while we hummed. The dragon eventually fell silent and snuggled closer, its tiny wings - which almost looked like petals of a flower - fluttered, a claw resting against his chest before biting down on Russia's palm, leaving a mark there as an imprint. Russia held it close, looking over to Kwait, who gave him a bright smile.

"What are you naming it?" Kwait came over and nuzzled his cheek.

"I... I'm not sure yet." Russia looked down at Kwait.

Kwait kissed Russia's cheek. "Do you wanna take it home for now?"

Russia nodded, nuzzling the little baby dragon. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

The dragon stopped them from leaving, making a few more sounds and fluttering their wings.

"Oh! Thank you!" Kwait rested a hand on the dragon's snout, then looked back to Russia. "They said you can come back and ask for anything you need help with. Food, shelter, when it gets older, stuff like that."

"Thank you." Russia nodded up at the dragon, then began walking home with Kwait.

"I think this will help you. I really do." Kwait kissed Russia's shoulder.

"I hope so." Russia's smile faded. "How's Germany been doing?"

"He's okay. You told him, and that's good. I'm absolutely sure it will all turn out just fine."

Russia hesitated before nodding again.

"I'm really sure." Kwait patted Russia's arm. "If Misio needs something, then we'll be there."

Russia nodded. "I... understand."

Kwait kissed Russia's cheek. "Everything will turn out fine."

"I hope so."

"It will." Kwait looked up at Russia when he opened the door to their home. "I promise. Come on, let's just relax. I'm tired, and you can play around with your new dragon while Germany and I sleep."

Russia nodded and pressed a light kiss to Kwait's cheek. "Sleep well."

"I will. Please take care of yourself, alright?" Kwait kissed Russia's chin, then hugged him. "I love you."

"I love you too." Russia ran a hand through Kwait's hair, then walked to his bedroom, laying the dragon down on his bed before doing the same.

The dragon, after a few moments, tried to crawl over to Russia, whining and collapsing onto their stomach. Russia grinned at the little dragon with a coo, brushing a hand along the little dragon's spine.

_Mommy?_

Russia blinked in surprise, then chuckled. "Not quite."

 _Not mommy?_  They tilted their head to the side.

"Daddy."

_Da... ddy?_

"Mmhmm." He kissed the little dragon's snout.

They nuzzled his neck, pawing at his chest and cooing, to which he held them close and kissed their little snout again.

_Food?_

"What would you like to eat?"

They made a small whimpering sound, pawing at his chest.

"We have anything you want." He slipped out of bed.

They tried to walk after him, but fell to their stomach again. _Food._

He chuckled and picked the little dragon up. "Fish?" He walked over to the kitchen and running a hand down his back, kissing their cheek.

They jumped around and cooed in approval, jumping down to the river, then snapping their jaws around a fish, their golden eyes sparkling up at Russia.

Russia grinned and picked them up again. "Taste good?"

They nodded, bouncing in his hold.

Russia chuckled and kissed their cheek. "Adorable. Do you want more?"

They nodded, bouncing against him.  _Love you, daddy._

"I love you too." He cooed, nuzzling close.

_My name?_

"What do you think about Sol?"

They nodded, bouncing and pawing at his chest.

The next day, Kwait had taken Russia, Germany, and Navre to a lake in a cave filled with glowing stones and wooden structures to make some sort of bar. Tih swam in a little pool closest to Canada and Mexico, Kwait settling as close to Germany, Navre, and Russia as possible. Canada muttered over to Tih, grinning and nodding toward the little baby dragon, then Tih came closer, poking their snout to little Navre's snout, making the baby dragon cry and hide in Russia's chest.

"Thana, what the hell!"

Tih whined and looked back up at Canada, unsure of what to do while swiping their tail before finally coming over to Canada, squishing him under their body and making him grunt.

"Is Thanatos being mean to you again?" Mexico rested on the ledge, grinning as Kwait swam in next to Mexico.

"Yes. They're crushing me." Canada tried to pat Tih's body.

Tih let out a huff, small smoke tendrils flying from their nose.

"See? I'm dying. You're killing me, Tih."

They stuck their tongue out at Canada, their tail slamming against the floor.

Canada chuckled and hugged what they could of Tih's neck. "Yes, yes, I love you."

"So," Mexico started, looking up, "I'm starving. What are we all getting?"

"I dunno."

Mexico turned toward Russia. "Any ideas?"

Kwait snuggled into Russia's leg, cuddling it to his own chest.

"I... don't know what there is to eat." Russia smiled at Kwait and squeezed Kwait's hand.

"Well, there is a menu right next to your head. Why don't you choose something?" Mexico looked at Germany before watching Navre once more.

"Oh." Germany reached for the menu, humming to himself. "What would all of you like?" Kwait tried to get a peek at it, Navre looking down at it as well. Germany turned the menu so they could see the menu, smiling wider.

"Everything looks good." Kwait hugged Germany's leg this time.

"Mmhmm." Russia laid his head on Germany's shoulder.

"What looks best?" Kwait kissed Germany's leg.

"I like the look of this." Germany pointed to the sushi roll.

"Then get some of that." Russia kissed Germany's cheek.

Germany grinned. "What about you two?"

"We're all waiting for you to choose for us." Mexico winked.

"... Oh."

"So, What are you choosing?"

"The... sushi rolls?"

"Coming right up!" A small monster - a tiny human-like thing made of rock about the size of a child - bounced around on the bar.

"Thank you." Canada made a thumbs up sign, then smacked his hand down against the sand again.

...

To you who recognizes this, I thought you might show up.

For anyone that's interested, yes, I am now going to focus on the second chapter of Familie (yay!) until I am finished with it. Hopefully I have it out in a reasonable amount of time. Until then, please enjoy this!

Also, I wanted to ask this before I leave: would you rather really long chapters that take a while to upload, or shorter chapters that will be more frequent? Let me know using this poll [here](https://www.quotev.com/quiz/12365655/Longer-or-Shorter)! (Yes, I made a Quotev account just so I could do this and some other polls)

I hope you all have an amazing rest of your day!

**Author's Note:**

> Want to just hang out? Feel free to join me on [Instagram ](https://www.instagram.com/just.my.art.stuffs/)and also see me on [Twitter](https://www.twitter.com/babbyxdddd)!


End file.
